The Voldemort Trilogy Book 2: Remorse
by urcool91
Summary: Albus Potter, aka Lord Voldemort, may have melded, but both he and the Wizarding World are far from acceptance. From building an army to trying to convince his father of his identity, Albus needs time for his plans to work. Unfortunately the new Dark Lady has no intention of giving that time to him... COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**_Dah dah da-dah! Way later than it should have been, the second book of the Voldemort Trilogy is UP! Ta- dah!_**

Even with acceptence, it is hard to forget past failings and live for the moment. It is hard to set aside years of experiance and trust your so-called enemies. It is hard to forgive without forgetting.

Trials are the way we grow in life, but they can also hold us back. Love is a good thing, but sometimes it can blind us to the truth. Sometines the truth is so painful that we prefer to believe what we know is a lie.

To many, good and evil are seperate, distinct. This is a story of reconcilliation with one's past, and the frightening realazation that good and evil are not as apart as they appear.

This is a story of love, loss, remorse, and the peace that must be attained afterwards. This is a story that has never happened before nor will ever happen again. It is the story that changed the course of history. It is the story of Voldemort.

**_And so we're off! Please leave a review; they equal my love and imaginary cookies!_**


	2. Chapter 2: Funerals

**_Now for the slightly angst-filled chapter about funerals. Yes, that is depressing. I don't really know what else to put in this author's note, so on with the show!_**

Deja vu and regret. The two near constants in Albus Potter's life since he had melded. Most of the time he could ignore the continuous pangs, but this surge of regret was particularly strong, and he knew why.

This was a funeral. The whole setup was eerily familiar. The caskets slowly lowered into the earth, the droning speeches made by men who knew nothing of their subjects. Albus had been here before, but at the same time it was an entirely new experience. This time he cared.

For most it was a double funeral for two people they couldn't care less about, Douglas Adams and Scorpius Malfoy. For Albus it was much more. It was an event both new and old, almost boring. It was a physical sign of Rose's, _his cousin's, _total and complete fall. It was his time to grieve for all these he had loved who had died, including the one he probably felt the keenest, his memory man, Tom.

It would have all been easier to bear if Tom had been there, with his sarcastic, dark humor that could, at the same time, be very wise. Even now Albus waited for Tom's acid commentary on the insincere speaker, and he had to remind himself that Tom was dead.

Glancing around, Albus felt his eyes smart with unshed tears. There was his newest friend and ally, Amos Lee, nervous and frightened but nonetheless there. There was Frank Longbottom, trying his best not to attract attention for being a Gryffindor and failing miserably. There was the man Albus knew by sight to be Draco Malfoy, Scorpius's father, his face set and emotionless, but his red eyes and haggard demeanor betrayed his true devastation at the loss of his only son.

Quickly Albus returned his attention to the front when the tears threatened to flow out. All the different funerals of his life seemed to overlap into this one, culminating into a great morass of guilt and pain. Again his new memories threatened to overwhelm him.

_But, Professor Dippet, you can't close Hogwarts!_

_Step aside, silly girl, step aside._

_Harry Potter. The Boy who Lived._

Shaking his head, Albus pushed the memories firmly to the back of his mind. He had enough to worry about without adding the past to his list. After the funeral he was going to do something incredibly risky, something that could potentially blow up in his face. He had to keep his concentration there and then, where it belonged.

The droning man had finally stopped. Albus watched as the coffins were slowly lowered into the ground. Then Draco Malfoy moved hesitantly foreword. Couching down by his son's tombstone, he muttered a few phrases. His wand cut deep gorges in the granite, until in the end it read:

Scorpius Malfoy

Virtutem videant intabescantque relicta.

Albus stared at it, and for a moment he had the urge to race foreword and do something, anything. One tear fell, then another. The boy quickly wiped away the tears, but still they fell, faster and faster. They came for Myrtle, for his first father, for his grandparents. They came for his other grandparents, Lily and James, they came for Scorpius and Adams. They came for every person he had killed, either by his own hand or by his orders.

As the tears fell, the ache Albus felt eased a little, but Albus knew it would be back. The almighty tear in his soul would never heal, it had been dug too deep. It could only be bandaged and hidden from the world. Perhaps, in time, scar tissue would form, but for now all he could do was numb the wound.

The double funeral had ended. Albus got up from his seat and walked up the aisle until he reached the tombstone where Draco Malfoy still was. He was clutching the edge of the stone with white knuckles, his face set and unreadable. When he noticed Albus beside him he looked up, as if daring the boy to speak.

"I'm sorry about Scorpius," said Albus. The words sounded stupid and inadequate. Draco Malfoy returned his gaze to the tombstone.

"He didn't deserve this," he whispered, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

"No one deserves to die," Albus agreed.

"I'm not going to let his murderer get away with this," Draco Malfoy said, still staring at the stone. "I'll hunt him down myself if I have to." Albus shifted uncomfortably.

"You sound like my father," he said. Draco Malfoy's head jerked up so that his eyes met Albus's.

"You have no idea," he hissed. "He- he was was my _son_. Why would anyone ever-" He broke off unable to continue. For a moment both were silent, then the elder said, "This- this is my fault."

"You weren't even there," said Albus.

"It doesn't matter! If I hadn't been so stupid in the war... if I hadn't worked for _Him_, Scorpius would still be alive. He was my son, my baby, and I- I killed him." Albus looked down, and felt his heart ache for the guilt-ridden father.

_He deserves to know the truth, why his son died. _Albus's breath hitched. He could have sworn he heard a voice, but that was impossible. Tom was dead.

"Tom?" Albus breathed, barely loud enough for even himself to hear, hardly daring to hope that what he had heard wasn't just his imagination. He received no answer. It had been too good to be true, anyways, that Tom would still be alive, even after the the melding. Albus absentmindedly placed a supporting hand on Draco Malfoy's shoulder. For a moment the older man stiffened, then his shoulders slumped and his head hung limply.

"My baby... my poor little boy..." he moaned softly, fingers gently caressing the moist dirt that covered Scorpius's body. Albus opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn't know how to tell Draco Malfoy that Scorpius's death had been his fault, that his cousin had done the deed simply to get at him. But at the same time Albus knew that Draco Malfoy needed to know the truth.

"I- I'm sorry," Albus whispered. Something in the boy's voice made Draco Malfoy look up, tears shining in his eyes.

"For what?" the older man asked hoarsely. Albus looked down at his feet, unable to meet Draco Malfoy's eyes.

"It's my fault he's dead," he said even softer.

"How could it be your fault?" Draco Malfoy said compassionately. "You weren't the one who who held the wand or said the curse."

"Maybe not, but it's still my fault," said Albus. "I created the Dark Lady."

"Dark Lady? Potter, what are you saying?"

"The truth," said Albus. "I'm not who you think I am, not even close. I may not have said the spell, but I created the person who did."

"Potter, no matter what you did or said, how couldn't have created someone so vile. I've known you since you were young, you couldn't-"

"I'm not that person anymore!" Albus shouted, frustrated. "You don't understand what I've learned since the start of school. I'm not Albus Potter anymore!"

"Albus, you're hurt and confused-"

"No, I'm not. Well, I am hurt, but I'm not confused. Everything has been made clear to me for the first time in my life."

"What are you talking about?" Draco Malfoy said, a definite note of fear in his voice.

"I'm not Albus Potter. I never was Albus Potter, not really." Albus's voice was deathly calm, in sharp contrast with his franticness only moments before.

"Then who are? How are you responsible for Scorpius's d-death?" It was time for the penny to drop.

"You knew I was coming back, Draco," said Albus, forcing himself to look Draco Malfoy straight in the eye. For a moment both men were motionless. Draco's face was slowly consorting into an expression of raw pain and rage. He lurched upward and, drawing his wand, threw Albus into his son's headstone and pressed his wand to the boy's chest.

"You- you murdered him," Draco Malfoy growled.

"Not in the way you're thinking," said Albus calmly. Something in the young man's voice caught Draco Malfoy's attention.

"What do you mean? Did you order one of your underlings to do the deed? Tell the truth!" Draco Malfoy's wand burned a hole in Albus's shirt.

"I didn't order his death," said Albus. "Believe me when I say that bloodshed was the last hing I wanted when I entrusted Scorpius with the secret of my identity. But a new Dark Lady is rising, and she decided that he would be inconvenient if kept alive."

"Dark Lady? _Dark Lady? _What is this rubbish?"

"Draco, I'm telling the truth. Just let me explain fully." Draco Malfoy pressed his wand beneath Albus's chin.

"You've told me enough! You told me _you _killed him!"

"Draco, I as good as did. If I hadn't done what I did before, the Dark Lady wouldn't exist."

"What do you mean? Stop speaking in riddles and answer me!"

"Through my actions in my other life, when I was publicly known as Voldemort, I created the... social climate that created the Dark Lady."

"What do you mean?" Draco Malfoy's eyes were cold and merciless. Albus swollowed, then continued.

"She hates us, Draco," he said, almost pleaded. "She hates all Slytherins. She sees it as her- her destiny and duty to exterminate us, and thus destroy evil. She will stop at nothing to destroy us all, every person who ever was and ever will be a Slytherin." Draco Malfoy stumbled backwards.

"Why?" he asked. Albus looked up at him.

"To her, to be evil is to be Slytherin, and to be Slytherin is to be evil. It's as simple as that. There is no grey area, no middle ground. Morals don't affect her because of the evil's absouteness. It's just day and night. Black and white. Heaven and Hell."

"But- but how-" Draco choked out.

"How could someone be so deluded? The same way we all are. We are always fighting against our prejudices and generalizations and styrotypes; she has simply given in. Besides, a person always wants to be right. It's only natural to paint yourself as the hero and your 'opposites' as the villains."

"Who is she?" Draco said quietly. "Tell me who she is and I will destroy her."

"Don't be stupid," said Albus. "She almost killed me last time we met."

"You're just a boy," said Draco Malfoy.

"I'm also the former Dark Lord. If anyone should be able to take her its me, but I couldn't. I failed."

"We could make an army," Draco Malfoy said. "I have resources-"

"Like escaped Death Eaters, no doubt," said Albus. When Draco Malfoy gawked, Albus sighed. "Scorpius told me. Yes, we do need an army, but we can't attack her with it."

"I'm not letting my son's murderer walk free!"

"I have no doubt that she has been building an army, too, and she has the Ministry and the rest of the world with her. Who do you think they'd side with, a loyal Gryffindor or a cunning, evil Slytherin? No, it would be better to bide our time and build up our strength. We're at a clear disadvantage here, and we can't waste what we have on fruitless attacks."

"But if we cut the head off the stink worm early on-"

"Then we'll have the whole Ministry on our backs. How sympathetic do you think they'd be of a Slytherin?"

"Its better than letting this transform into the Third War."

"Unless we can goade the Dark Lady into revieling herself or come up with some very concrete evidence, the Ministry won't listen and she'll be onto you."

"I can live through some Dark Lady being on my tail. I'v seen worse."

"We may need to use your manor as a safe house. We can't have her on you."

"There are ways to hide the manor, you know that," said Draco Malfoy. "I want to fight!"

"I told you _no!_" Albus barked. Draco Malfoy shrank back; what little color had been in his face was gone. Albus ran a hand through his hair. "No," he said again, calmer this time. "You won't achieve anything other than getting yourself killed."

"I- I can't just let her go," Draco Malfoy said. "My Lord, you wouldn't understand. Scorpius-"

"Scorpius was your son," said Albus gently. Draco Malfoy nodded, closing his eyes and turning back toward the grave.

"He knew, didn't he?" he whispered. "About you?"

"Yes," said Albus. Draco Malfoy nodded again. When he opened his eyes they were hard and determined.

"For my Scorpius," he said, "I will join you again, my Lord."

**_So now Albus has Malfoy on his side. Next chapter: Albus, Frank, and Amos discuss putting together an army, and we find out just how bad the Ministry still is._**


	3. Chapter 3: Blueprint for an Army

**_So here we go! This is basically a big talkie chapter. I don't know what else to say, honestly, so enjoy._**

"Well, I got Scorpius's father on our side and nobody got injured or killed, that's something," said Albus.

"That _is _s_o_mething," Frank admitted, "but you could have been more, I don't know, sly about it or something."

"He was a hell of a lot more sly about it than he was with me," Amos pointed out.

"Side affect of melding, I guess," said Albus, shrugging. "How exactly am I supposed to be sly about telling someone I'm basically evil incarnate, anyways?" Frank looked at Albus a bit weirdly. "What?"

"You're turning into Tom, mate." Albus sighed and, resting his head on the back of his hair, gazed up at the ceiling without really seeing it. After a moment he sighed.

"At what point would you think I was crazy?" he said.

"Albus, you passed that point a long time ago," said Amos seriously. Albus rolled his eyes.

"No, seriously," said Albus. "When will you think I'm just hallucinating?" Frank stared at his friend.

"What's this all about?" he said.

"It- it's just that I think I might be going mad." Silence for a moment. "I thought I heard Tom." Frank's jaw dropped.

"When?" he said.

"While I was talking to Scorpius's father." Albus tipped back his chair so it was standing on only two legs, then banged it loudly back on all fours again.

"Albus," Frank said at last, "you- you said that Tom ceased to exist."

"I didn't just say it," said Albus, a bit annoyed. "I _felt _it." Frank and Amos exchanged wary glances.

"Well, as I said, you told us he died," said Frank, pressing onward, "and I don't see how-"

"I know," said Albus. "I was probably just imagining things. But I can still hope, right?"

"Al," Frank said, reaching out to rest his hand on his friend's shoulder. Albus shrugged it off.

"I guess I shouldn't, then," he said, a bit colder than was necessary.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't hope," said Frank carefully, "only that you shouldn't hope for the impossible."

"You would know a lot about hoping for the impossible, wouldn't you, Severus?" Albus snapped. "Some friend you were, lusting after the enemy like some blood traitor, always being so tight with that damned old man without even _thinking _about how much I needed and depended on you. You should have been honored, but instead you just-"

"Albus," Frank growled. Albus jumped, startled, then he groaned and placed his head in his hands.

"I did it again," he said quietly. "I thought once I melded this would be over."

"It's not your fault," said Amos. "Its only been a couple of days, you just have to get used to having all your memories."

"But I can't!"

"You will, Al, trust me. I did." Frank tentatively placed his hand on Albus's shoulder again, and this time Albus didn't pull away.

"It was easier for you," Albus muttered bitterly. "You were already good."

"Al, people change all the time-"

"You don't understand! For me there was no change! At one moment I was evil, then I was good. There was no turning, no growing. I was simply forced to grow up again under completely different circumstances, and now I'm paying the price for my goodness."

"Paying the price for your-" Frank stopped, shaking his head. "Albus, that's ridiculous."

"What other explanation is there?"

"I don't know!" Frank, too, was frustrated now. Amos sighed.

"Both of you, stop it," he said wearily. "Focus on the present problems. Merlin knows we have enough things to worry about without jumping at each other's throats." Albus muttered some very uncomplimentary things under his breath, but Amos chose to ignore him.

"Well, the first thing to do is see where we are, army wise," said Frank. "There's us three, of course."

"Scorpius's father and all the escaped Death Eaters add about seventy, I reckon," said Amos. "Seventy-three wizards does not an army make." Albus suddenly seemed rather thoughtful.

"It's a start, though," he said slowly. "And it shouldn't be hard to get more, if we look in the right places."

"What do you mean?" said Frank. "Rose has hot most of the wizarding world on her side."

"You're forgetting that wizards aren't the only sentient magical creatures in the world," said Albus. "There are giants, goblins, centaurs, mere people, house elves, and werewolves, too. Plus many more besides."

"You're suggesting that we ally with _them?_" said Amos, disgusted.

"Of course! If we can't get wizards on our side, we'll get other creatures. Most of them have reasons enough to hate wizards, especially since all the new regulations."

"What were those about, anyways?" said Frank. Albus rolled his eyes.

"They were mostly against the so-called 'Dark' creatures that had a majority following me during the last war. Giants and werewolves were the worst hit, but all other magical races felt the pressure as well. The regulation called for smaller and more tightly regulated preserves, mandatory consumption of the Wolfsbane Potion for werewolves, and the return of human guards at Gringotts."

"Why would the werewolves not want to take the Wolfsbane Potion?" said Amos.

"For one, the potion itself is hard to make and its ingredients are very expensive, so its impractical for most werewolves. Also, some werewolves feel that the potion itself is another attempt bey the Ministry to rein them in and control. They're willing to take precautions against biting people, but they want it to be on their own terms," said Albus.

"Well, that's stupid," said Amos. "The Ministry's only concern is public safety."

"That doesn't change the fact that some werewolves simply don't have the skill or resources to brew it in the first place," said Albus sadly, "and you have to admit that the Ministry does like control, over part-humans and non-humans especially. Maybe some do it out of concern or even genuine effort to help the werewolves, but most see it as a way to control the werewolves and keep up their precious facade of goodness."

"Facade is a pretty good way of describing it," said Amos ruefully. "Where's your dad standing in all of this dragon dung?"

"He supports it, of course," said Albus. "The almighty Harry Potter has to make sure he's always seen as a savior, even if we don't need one."

"Oh, I don't know," said Frank. "Weren't we just talking about Dark Ladies and armies? Shouldn't we try it get him and the Ministry on our side before its too late? We could use a savior right now."

"Do you think the non-humans would like us working with the Ministry, or vice versa?" Albus said. "Do you think the Ministry would even believe us? No, this will be a band of the dregs of society, make no mistake."

"Thanks a lot, Al," said Frank. "Guess I belong to these 'dregs of society' you mentioned, huh?"

"If you do, then you have my highest respect," said Albus, giving his Gryffindor friend a mock salute. "The very fact that you are considered by society to be beneath the pig-headed elite gives you immense status among the humble ranks of the Life Barfers."

"Life Barfers?" said Amos, snorting.

"Of course," said Albus. "What else would you call a group of mostly reformed Death Eaters and malcontents?"

"With all your talk, you'd think we're taking on the Ministry itself, not just Rose and her little friend," said Frank. Albus stared into space, obviously deep in thought.

"In a way, we are," he said at last, then he grinned at the look on Frank's face. "Look, we already know that the Ministry's going to take her side, right?" Frank nodded. "Then, by default, by taking on her, we're taking them on, too."

"But Rose is evil!" said Frank. "The Ministry's not evil-"

"Just broken," said Albus. When Frank opened his mouth to argue Albus gestured for him to be silent. "Don't say a thing, Frank. The Ministry's a bureaucracy, plain and simple. The vary way it was set up was faulty from the start, inviting in the inevitable corruption that comes with politicians. Its creators were idealists who expected good in an evil world. Its always been doomed."

"And what do you propose we do about it?" said Frank, annoyed. Albus smiled a bit wickedly.

"Nothing," he said. "Absolutely nothing." Both Frank's and Amos's mouths dropped open.

"What?" said Amos weakly. "Nothing?"

"Yes," said Albus. "We'll let the Ministry flounder and dissolve into chaos with this new threat. Then, when it has destroyed itself, we'll pick up the pieces and throw them away. We'll be able to create a new Ministry, a better one."

"But- but how?" said Amos, clearly overwhelmed. "We're just kids!"

"Two of us are reborn kids," said Albus, "and you- you're the future. Rose is going to destroy the Slytherins, a group as good and right as any, because of the image we have. It's only right that we destroy an image built up by those who want to appear as good as Slytherins are."

"It's almost ironic," said Frank. Albus rose an eyebrow at him. "Okay, not really," Frank admitted, "but it is interesting."

"Aye," said Albus, "but that's beside the point."

"And the point is?" said Amos. Albus took a deep breath.

"We have a challenging path before us," he said. "Former Death Eaters, magical creatures, and Slytherins-"

"Oh my!" quipped Frank. Albus glared at him.

"Needless to say, we have some people to convince," he said.

"This is the strangest army ever," said Amos. Albus nodded.

"Indeed," he said, then turned back to the task at hand. "We'll start with the centaurs. I'll talk with Professor Firenze as soon as I can."

**_And there you go! Sorry it was a bit late this week, its been kind of crazy. Reviews= free hugs!_**


	4. Chapter 4: Venus and Mars

**_Yikes! Its already been two weeks since the last update. Sorry about the wait, but my one-act got to State last week, and we got a director, crew, and acting plaque, so, yeah, I've been busy. Anyways, I hope you like "Venus and Mars"._**

As it turned out, Albus didn't have to seek out Professor Firenze. Only two days later, during breakfast in the Great Hall, the centaur trotted over to Albus's place at the Slytherin table. and motioned for the young man to follow him. After sharing a meaning-filled look with Amos, Albus complied, following Professor Firenze into his classroom, which had been modified to look like the Forbidden Forest at night. The centaur loped into the small clearing in the center of the room.

"Sit, young Albus," he said. Albus sank, cross-legged, onto the mossy floor.

"Why do you wish to speak with me?" Albus said, his mind instantly flashing back to all the times an older him had said that to a being he was about to kill. Inwardly Albus shuddered, but he let the memories stay in his mind for the moment. They could prove useful.

"The stars have been moving strangely," Professor Firenze said, staring into the star-filled, fake sky. "I have studied them here, I have studied them from the Astronomy Tower. A great shift has happened in their cestial dance."

"Why are you telling me this?" Albus said, honestly puzzled on why the centaur would tell this to a first year who was, as far as the Professor was concerned, completely normal. Professor Firenze tured his gaze from the sky toward Albus Potter.

"The skys are difficult to decipher. Even a centaur may be mistaken about the signs he sees." The centaur sighed and went back to studying the stars. "I hope, for your sake, that this is one of those times." Albus got up from the ground and walked over to where Professor Firenze was standing.

"What have you seen, Professor?" he said. The centaur pointed toward a particularly bright star near the horizen. "What is that?"

"Mars," said Professor Firenze, his voice laden with sorrow. "Nearly a week ago it flared. It will continue to climb in the sky as war comes nearer. But look!" The finger now pointed almost directly above them, at another bright star, almost as bright as Mars. "As the power of Mars grows, so Jupiter's wanes. I have not seen it so dim since before the war."

"Why is it dimming?" Albus said.

"As one power grows, another must fade. As a new king rises, the old one must fall. The only question now is which will be the new king."

"Which?" said Albus. As a response Pofessor Firenze again moved his arm until he was pointing at another star, closer to Jupiter than Mars.

"Venus," he said. "Venus is closer, but is also slower than Mars. Love finds it harder to take root than hate, but its roots go deeper. So there is hope."

"Hope that Venus will help Jupiter," said Albus, "or hope that Venus will become the new king, instead of Mars?" Professor Firenze's eyebrows rose.

"It could be either," He sighed, "or neither. The heavens are even harder to read than usual now. I can see that you think that you already know who is Venus and who is Mars, but they do not have to be people. They could be groups or ideas or even," The centaur turned his intense gaze directly into Albus's eyes, "even two parts of a whole. Venus was always a part of Mars, and Mars a part of Venus. One cannot be without the other. It is an intense, passionate balance."

"Sir, what do you know about me?" said Albus.

"More than you know about yourself," said Professor Firenze. Albus nodded.

"Then you know why I need your help," Albus said.

"I know why," the centaus said, "but I will not fight. My star is falling from the sky."

"At least help," Albus insisted. "Do you want darkness and chaos?"

"Of course not," said Professor Firenze, "but I cannot fight. It is not my path. However, I will assist you in the small way I can. Tell Bane that the horn of Golend has been blown. It is finished."

"Well, that was... weird," said Frank after Albus had told him and Amos the story.

"Unprofitable is more like it," said Amos. "You didn't get us a single ally."

"The professor told me what to say to Bane," Albus said. "Maybe that horn of Golend will call the centaurs to our aid."

"Maybe, but I don't like that Professor Firenze said that it is finished," said Frank. "It sounds too much like _we're_ finished."

"We can't be sure of that," said Albus. "Besides, I don't think that Professor Firenze would have told me all those hings about prophacies if he was leading us into a trap." Amos snorted.

"I don't put much stock in prophacy," he said.

"Neither do I, usually," Albus admitted, "but centaurs have been studying the stars for as long as they can remember, and they have long memories. True Seers among humans may be rare, but with centaurs its an art. If there's anyone I'd trust to be right about the future, its a centaur."

"This supposed prophacy _is _interesting," said Frank. "Jupiter, Mars, Venus-"

"Well, its no secret who Mars is," said Amos. "The god of war, or the goddess as the case may be-"

"Didn't Professor Firenze specifically warn us about making assumptions like that? Besides, if I'm remembering my Roman mythology correctly, the goddess of war was Minerva-"

"Don't even go there, Frank," said Albus, laughing. "I don't think McGonnagal is going to try to unseat Jupiter."

"Regardless," said Amos, getting his friends back on track, "our main question is this: Should we contact Bane and the other cantaurs with our horn of Golend bit? Sould we trust Firenze?" Both he and Frank turned toward Albus.

"Well?" said Frank, clearly nervous and wary but nonetheless subject to Albus's decision. Albus took a deep breath.

"I'm inclined to trust him," he said. Frank nodded. Neither he nor Amos looked crazy with the idea.

"Why do you trust him?" Amos said. Albus shrugged.

"I respect the centaurs as a race. Most of the time they're honest, even if in a rather roundabout way. They stick to their morals, that's why they never sided with me before, and are very loyal to their own," he said.

"Honesty and morals are some strange things for a former Dark Lord to respect," said Frank. The look Albus shot him could have made even Dumbledore quail in fear.

"You don't need to have something to respect it," Albus said coldly. Frank involuntarily backed away a few steps.

"Fine, fine," he muttered. "Calm down, Al."

"I'm so sorry," said Albus, suddenly dropping his head in his hands. "I just-"

"I know," said Frank hurriedly. "You just need some time to get used to your new memories."

"That's not what I was going to say," Albus half-snapped. "It's just... I can't afford to keep slipping like this. I can't let Voldemort take over."

"Albus, part of melding is accepting your past-"

"I can't, Frank. He'll destroy Albus, or what's left of Albus. He's too strong. His memories, his urges, his," Albus shuddered, "his power. Albus has regret for his actions, but _he _doesn't. I can't risk killing Albus."

"From what you two have told me, Tom regretted his actions," said Amos. "Why can't you do the same?"

"Voldemort can't! He's frozen at the point he was at when I was reborn as Albus! He can't grow like Tom could, he can't change. All of us are trapped, because he can never regret."

"That might be true," said Amos, "but you regret, so-" Albus laughed mirthlessly.

"Albus regretted," he said. "Voldemort can't regret. But me? I'm stuck for now. I'm somewhere in the middle of the two of them, but Voldmort is stronger. I can feel it. I can feel Albus slipping away."

"It can't be that bad," said Frank. "You'll bet through this, Al. You've always gotten through-"

"I never have! Maybe Albus did, but-" Albus choked on his words, turning quickly away from his friends to hide his tears. "This is irrelevant," he said cooly. "Our main problem is how to contact Bane, seeing as the Forbidden Forest is off-limits, even to former Dark Lords of Darkness."

"It might be a good idea to try to get Hagrid on our side," suggested Frank. "He knows the Forest better than anyone."

"Yeah," said Amos, "and he wouldn't be in our way."

"That's a good idea," said Albus. "Or we could just, you know, kill him." Frank and Amos stared at Albus in open shock. Albus groaned. "Dark Lord humor," he grumbled. "Nobody understands it."

**_Well, there we go. Hopefully I'll get some reviews (hint, hint). See you guys next week!_**


	5. Chapter 5: Care for Some Shocks, Sir?

**_Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! It's been, what, four weeks since last chapter? Anyways, here's "Care for Some Shocks, Sir?"_**

"Al, where the Merlin are we going?" asked James. Frank had told the fourth year that they needed to borrow his semi-stolen invisibility cloak, which had led to an awkward line of questioning, which had led to James being dragged by his little brother down some corridor.

"You'll see," said Albus. James glanced at his brother. The five months since they had started their year at Hogwarts had somehow changed Albus. He looked older, more focused, more mature, but there was an underlying tension and urgency to his actions. James had to resist the urge to stop his brother and ask him what the hell was going on. He was worried and most of all just wanted his baby brother to be all right. Then, abruptly, they did stop, jolting James out of his thoughts. James glanced at his brother again, this time in confusion.

"Al, why are we in front of a girl's loo?" he said. If he hadn't known that Albus had the worst, driest sense of humor on the planet, James would've suspected a practical joke.

"You'll see," said Albus, looking down both ends of the hallway to make sure they were alone before opening the loo's door and ushering James inside. "We have to be careful where we discuss sensitive matters now. This is the best place we have so far." James looked around the dingy room.

"The best place you have is a girl's loo?" he said. Albus smiled.

"No," he said. "It's under a girl's loo."

"What're you going to do, give me a swirly?" James said, only half joking. Maybe his brother's sense of humor was more developed than he'd thought.

"Nothing so vulgar," said Albus. "Simply a whirlwind tour of the sewers and chambers of Hogwarts."

"Don't worry about it," he said, before letting out a strangled hissing noise that made the hairs on James's neck stand on end. As though in response, one of the sinks in front of them moved backwards into the wall, uncovering a large pipe , large enough for a human to fall into. "After you," said Albus.

"Are you crazy?" said James.

"Quite," said Albus. "Now get down there before I push you."

"How?" said James, whose brain seemed to be short-circuiting. Albus rolled his eyes.

"Jump, of course," he said, as though he was discussing broomstick handles instead of life-threatening leaps.

"Jump?" James repeated dumbly.

"Yes," said Albus impatiently, "jump. For Merlin's sake, even Amos wasn't this hard-headed. This isn't Transfiguration, Jamie."

"Are you sure it's safe?" Albus snorted, openly exasperated now.

"Listen to yourself, James. What kind of Gryffindor are you? You can't even trust your own brother enough to take a teeny, tiny risk."

"Nobody questions my courage," James snarled before diving into the dark pipe. To his surprise he only slid a short way before shooting out the end of the pipe and skidding to the prepuce of a giant stairwell. Albus's laughter echoed loudly around the underground chamber. A moment later James's Slytherin brother too shot out of the pipe opening, landing much more gracefully than the disgruntled Gryffindor.

"Hello again," said Albus, grinning far too widely. James got up, rubbing his skinned elbow irritably.

"Where the Merlin are we?" he grumbled.

"The alternate entrance to the Chamber of Secrets," said Albus. James stared at his brother.

"An alternate entrance?" he said. "Why would there be an alternate entrance?" Albus shrugged.

"The entrance that our fa- that Dad found was for use by the basilisk, I guess. The first time Frank and I went down we took that one, but we couldn't get back up. We poked around a little, and we ended up finding this. I guess Slytherin needed a way to get down to feed his little bunny rabbit."

"Bunny rabbit?" James said before realizing Albus was making a horrible joke. He groaned, "Shut up, Al."

"Why should I?" said Albus. "I'm just answering your question."

"No, you're making lame jokes. There's a difference, Ally." To James's surprise, Albus didn't bristle at the embarrassing nickname. Instead he just sighed.

"I'm not Ally anymore, James," he said.

"Anymore?" said James, but he was more concerned with how tired and old his little brother suddenly sounded.

"Yes, Jamie, anymore," said Albus, his mouth quirking into a sad half-smile. "It'll take a lot more than that stupid nickname to wind me up now."

"Aw, come on, Ally," said James. "Are you all gwown up now, hmm?"

"Maybe I am, James," Albus said softly. James shot his brother a sharp look. He hadn't meant for his comment to be taken literally.

"You know I'm just playing you, Al," he said.

"You're playing Albus," said Albus. James froze.

"Are you turning into Kreacher, kiddo? 'Cause I'm _so _going to make you call me Master James-"

"Can you be serious for once, James?" Albus snapped. James flinched away from his brother.

"Albus," he said, his voice shaking slightly, "what the Merlin is wrong with you?" Albus shook his head slightly then turned white.

"Damn," he muttered. "There goes everything."

"Eh?" Albus finally looked his brother straight in the eye.

"I suppose I have to tell you," he said. "I would've had to anyway, eventually."

"Tell me what?" said James. Albus didn't answer. "Come on, you know you can tell me anything." Albus laughed hollowly.

"I'm going to tell you James. My problem is that I don't know where to begin."

"Why not at the beginning?" said James.

"Oh, that's a lifetime ago," said Albus. "Besides, how can I start there without getting into a ton of things you wouldn't understand unless I started in the middle?"

"Get on with it already," said James, annoyed and afraid for his brother. Albus sighed.

"First, you have to promise not to curse me," he said. James blinked.

"What?"

"You heard me," said Albus. "I don't want to have to dodge your latest invention."

"Will this make me want to curse you?" James said.

"Probably," said Albus cheerfully. The corner of James's mouth twitched upwards very slightly.

"Deal," he said. "This should be good."

"No, it's very bad," said Albus, still cheerful. "Basically, I'm evil." James's jaw dropped to the floor.

"What?" he said.

"I'm evil," said Albus, then he frowned. "I guess I shouldn't break the news to our father this way, huh?"

"You're evil?" said James, hoping this was all some very complicated, convoluted practical joke.

"Yes, yes I am," said Albus, suddenly serious.

"How?" said James before realizing what a stupid sounding question that was. "I mean, how are you evil?"

"Well, I'm Voldemort, sort of," said Albus. James fainted.

James woke up propped against a giant snake skeleton with his brother standing over him.

"Hi," said Albus a bit sheepishly. James shook his head, trying to clear it.

"What just happened?" he said, frowning unhappily when the words came out slurred.

""You fainted," said Albus. "Just stay still a moment, and I reckon your head will clear up." James was about to do just that when he remembered something very important.

"Al, did you say you're Voldemort?" he said. Albus sat down awkwardly next to his older brother.

"Yes," he said.

"Well, all right then," said James. Albus's head whipped around toward James, who was in the process of whistling "God, Save the Queen".

"Aren't you going to freak out or something?" said Albus, almost suspicious at his brother's lack of reaction. James shot Albus a grin.

"Look, I'm your big brother, Al," said James. "That gives me permission to annoy the hell out of you, but it also gives me the responsibility to keep you safe. If you're Ally, I'm on your side. If you're Voldy, I'm still on your side. It doesn't change anything." Albus's mouth dropped open.

"James… I…"

"Save it, Voldy, dear. Now, why did you bring me down here in the first place?"

"Um… I need your cloak?" Albus was still trying to comprehend the fact that James had accepted his evilness so easily.

"You mean the invisibility cloak that I borrowed from Dad?"

"Yeah," said Albus, "that cloak."

"Might I ask why?" said James.

"Well, it has to do with convincing centaurs that they have to help the Life Barfers fight against the new Dark Lady." James raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that's… new," he said. "Why don't you just enlist Hagrid's help?" Albus bit his lip.

"I- I'm just-"James suddenly nodded in understanding.

"You're afraid," he said. Albus opened his mouth to protest, but James stopped him. "No, I get it. You're afraid, little bro." Albus glared at James.

"I don't want Hagrid to hate me," he said.

"You'll have to tell everyone eventually," said James.

"I know," said Albus. "That's what I'm afraid of, that when I do there'll be no one left who believes in me."

"You'll have to tell everyone eventually," said James again, then he grinned, "but eventually isn't now, is it? Come on, let's go find some centaurs to annoy."

**_Sorry this took so long. Thing is, I can't promise when the next chapter will be up. My muse needs chocolate. :P_**


	6. Chapter 6: The Horn of Golend

**_Well, this is later than I intended it, but I'm finally getting somewhat back on schedule. Yay! Thank you to all who gave my muse reviews and chocolate. I am eternally grateful!_**

Albus and James were able to sneak out of the castle without much trouble. Both of them were very much occupied by their own thoughts. James was, oddly enough, wondering whether he should slip the Niffler in his pocket into Hagrid's cabin as a joke. Albus was quietly wondering whether his brother was crazy. Any person- well, any _sane_ person- would've stayed as far away from Lord Voldemort as possible. But instead James had just accepted it, no questions or very few questions asked. That kind of trust was alien to Albus, and it frightened him.

"James," Albus whispered as they paused near the green houses, "why do you trust me?" James shrugged.

"You're my brother, Ally. Who else should I trust?" Albus grimaced.

"Anyone but me," he said. "I'm Voldemort, James. Albus is fading."

"I doubt that very highly," said James. "Albus, my brother, you are the most stubborn little drackon-butt I've ever known. You'll get through this one."

"James, you don't understand-"

"I don't need too; I already know you, Al. You're the fighter, you've always been the fighter, and no matter what the situation you'll fight until Hell freezes over."

"You still haven't answered my question," said Albus. "Why would you trust the person who is becoming Voldemort?" James shrugged again, more tersely this time.

"Do I look like I have anything better to do?" he said. "I'm not a leader, Al, you know that better than anyone. You're going to have a great destiny, and I want to be there to see it and to catch some of the light shining off of you."

"Great? You call learning you're Voldemort great? You call having three people you love and trust killed in less than a week great?"

"Great? No. But they are your path to greatness." Albus sighed wearily.

"I wish I was so sure, James," he said. "Most of the time I feel more like I'm stumbling through the dark than racing toward some great destiny."

"The only reason I'm so sure is because I know you and I trust you," said James. "This is only the end if you want it to be, Ally. You should stop sorrowing about who you were and see it as it is- an opportunity to begin again."

"Maybe you're right, James," said Albus, a little surprised at how philosophical his so-called shallow and fun-loving brother was turning out to be. Soberly they resumed walking toward the Forbidden Forest.

When they finally reached the forest's edge under the invisibility cloak, both of them let out a sigh of relief. They had not been caught, but Albus knew the hard part was still to come. Now they had to somehow find a centaur or a herd of centaurs deep in a forest rumored to hold all kinds of dangerous creatures. Needless to say, the prospect was not the most inviting, but Albus knew he would do what he had to.

"How're we going to find them?" muttered James, staring uneasily at the dense trees.

"I'm going to say something Professor Firenze told me," said Albus.

"What is it?" said James. Albus took a deep breath.

"THE HORN OF GOLEND HAS BEEN BLOWN. IT IS FINISHED," he yelled. James looked from the forest to his brother, unimpressed.

"What were you expecting that to do, make a centaur stampede at us?" said James. Albus was about to stick his tongue out at his brother when he heard what seemed to be a deer or a gorse trampling underbrush.

"Just wait," he said. Moments later four centaurs trotted out of the forest. One was a huge black horse with the head and torso of a well-muscled, dreadlocked man. The other three were bays. All of them carried bows and looked wild and fierce.

"Ho, who disturbs our domain?" said the black centaur. Albus stepped out from beneath the invisibility cloak.

"Someone who needs your aid," he said, ignoring how the centaurs started. One of the bays, who pawed the ground impatiently and had many old and new scars crisscrossing his chest, snorted incredulously.

"You are a man," he said. "Why would men wish for our help? And are we to give it, led as though we were common donkeys?"

"Peace, Conan," said the black centaur. "This man is but a foal." He turned back to Albus. "Why do you come to the edge of our domain, sounding our battle horn?"

"A great darkness has come," said Albus. Conan's hind hoofs pounded the ground.

"What business is this of ours, Mordreck?" he said. "This is man's darkness and man's folly. We should have no part in it."

"Look at the stars," said Albus. "Listen to what they are telling you. This darkness is your concern."

"Who are you to tell me what the stars say, human?" Conan spat. Mordreck held up his hand, stilling Conan.

"What have you seen?" Mordreck said, his voice deep and measured.

"What have you?" Albus countered. Mordreck looked at the sky, then back at Albus.

"We have been inattentive, it seems," he said. "Tell us, what is this darkness?"

"It is named Rose Weasley," Albus said. Behind him James gasped, still invisible, but Albus ignored his brother. "She has announced herself the Dark Lady. Already she has killed two of my friends, and her goal is to destroy everything she deems evil."

"What is it to us?" said Conan acidly. "Perhaps he will destroy the Ministry and do us a favor." Albus looked up at the blond centaur.

"She's not like Lord Voldemort," he said. "She is on the side of the Ministry, the side against you and your people. I was told to go to Bane and tell him that the horn of Golend has been blown."

"Bane," said Mordreck, deep in thought. "He will not be happy for your message. Since the last battle he has not been well. But if you wish, we will bring you to him." Albus bowed deeply to the four centaurs.

"Thank you," he said. "I will not take much of Bane's time with my message." The centaurs looked at each other, impressed by Albus's humility, and all of them, even Conan, seemed to come to an agreement.

"Come," said Mordreck. As Albus followed the black centaur into the forest the two bays fell into line at either side of him with Conan taking rear.

"Where are we going?" Albus asked Mordreck.

"To Clearing of the Giant," he said. "It is where we have herded since the new laws of your Ministry. There is nowhere else to go." Albus nodded.

"What about the centaurs not of this forest?" he said. Conan snorted.

"They're all dead or crushed into surrender," he said. "Your people have not been kind to ours. We are one of the last semi-free herds, no thanks to you, of course-"

"Conan," said Mordreck, "peace."

"He is a man. We have been fooled by their lies before, shall you allow us to be played this way yet again?"

"I shall do what I must. He knows of the horn of Golend, so he is the confidence of one of the great warriors of the forest. What other proof of his truthfulness do we need?" Conan was about to argue again, but was stopped by a sharp look from one of the other bays.

"No more fighting," the bay said. "We approach Clearing of the Giant." Even as the bay said this Albus and the four centaurs broke through the last of the brush into a clearing maybe 200 meters across. Near the far edge was a huge tree with a worn rope tied around it. The whole clearing was crowded with centaurs of all ages, colours, and genders, but Albus noticed that they all were half-starved and weary. As he entered the camp with Mordreck, the centaurs shyed away from him.

"Where is Bane?" said Mordreck to the assembled mass. They all just shifted uncomfortably until a woman with a dappled body trotted foreward.

"Are you mad, Mordreck? Bringing a man into our sanctuary? Bane will have your head!"

"He will not harm me or the man, Larna," said Mordreck, brushing a ginger lock from her cheek. "This foal knows of the horn of Golend." Larna gasped.

"You mean-"

"Yes. Our time has come."

"He won't believe you," said Larna. "Bane lost everything at the Battle of Hogwarts. He won't let us-"

"I won't let us ignore this proof," said Mordreck. "While I take the man to Bane, mobilize our swiftest yearlings. We will have the news to all the centaurs of Scotland before the day is out and to England by tomorrow morning."

"We are not allowed-"

"Says who?" said Conan, racing forward. "The human Ministry? Even if Mordreck is mistaken, we need to fight them. We cannot let them trample our sacred places! We cannot let them starve our foals!" Larna looked from Mordreck to Conan, then she nodded.

"It will be done," she said. "Bane is near Bound Tree. May the stars move in your favor." With this he galloped away and Mordreck led Albus across the clearing to the huge tree.

"Bane," Mordreck called out. Somewhere in the tangle of roots and faint voice sounded.

"I told you not to disturb me, Mordreck," it said. "Let me mourn in peace." Conan snorted impatiently.

"We bring good news," he said.

"What good news can there be?" Bane growled, peeking his head out from the roots. His greying hair was matted and wild, but this fierce first impression was somewhat offset by the bags under and broken look in his eyes.

"We have been called to battle," said Conan. Bane grumbled under his breath. "What did you say?"

"I said no more war! It has taken too many of us already." Conan rolled his eyes and even Mordreck looked a bit exasperated.

"Would you rather us starve? Already we have lost four foals to the lack of game, and it will only get worse! How can we not try to destroy the Ministry?"

"It is not worth the blood that will be spilt," said Bane.

"More will be spilt if you insist on being complacent," said Albus, sick of watching the argument. All three centaurs stared at him. Nobody, not even Conan, had ever so directly insulted Bane.

"I am not complacent!" said Bane. "I am wise to keep us out of conflict!"

"You are a weak, cowardly fool who cannot see the suffering your people endure because of your complacency." Bane actually came out of the roots and glared down at Albus.

"How can you call me a coward?" he roared. "War has taken my best friend, Arian, and my brother, Firenze! It has scarred so many and helped so few-"

"You have been hurt," said Albus, softly, but effectively cutting bane off nonetheless. "I understand this. But just because we have been wounded doesn't mean we should stop fighting. Your brother, Firenze, told me that the horn of Golend has been blown and to tell you of it. I have done so."

"Firenze?" said Bane. "My little brother believes the horn blown?"

"He _knows_ it has been blown," said Albus. "He has read in the stars that Mars is rising to unseat Jupiter. War and darkness is quickly coming, and I need your help to combat it."

"What good will it do us?" said Bane. "We have fought alongside men once before at my behest, and look what that brought us. Ruin and poverty!" He began to disappear into the roots again.

"This darkness sides with the Ministry!" Albus called out. Bane paused.

"So you are against them?" he said.

"Of course," said Albus, realizing as he did so that he had just declared war on his father and on his whole family.

"If this is true…" said Bane softly, and then the turned back toward Albus, Mordreck, and Conan. "We will pledge ourselves to your cause. Mordreck..."

"I have already sent out runners," said Mordreck.

"Good," said Bane, rubbing his hands together. "By this time tomorrow the War of Golend will have begun."

**_Ooo! War! Yay! Next chapter will probably be a short one, just a filler before the real action begins. Reviews are my muse's inspiration!_**


	7. Chapter 7: Ways of the Mind

**_Well, here's the not so long-promised annoying filler chapter that just advances the plot a teeny, tiny bit. Don't expect much except Dumbles and pie. Mmm, pie._**

It was past midnight by the time Albus was escorted out of the woods to where his brother waited and almost 1:00 when he finally got to bed, partly because James had demanded an explanation for why they were fighting their cousin and partly because Peeves had seeded the Great Hall with Dungbombs. Almost as soon as Albus's head hit the pillow he was out and staring at a very familiar face.

"Dumbledore," he growled. If there was one thing his Albus and Voldemort sides could agree on it was that Dumbledore was, and Tom had once said, a complete and utter jerkwad.

"Tom," Dumbledore said cheerfully. Anger rose in Albus's chest like a giant red dragon.

"Don't call me that," he snapped. "Albus is my name. Tom belonged to another."

"You sentient memories didn't possess a name, Tom. They were-"

"He wasn't just a bunch of memories. He was Tom, a person." Dumbledore sighed.

"I can see that I'm not going to make much headway here," he said. "Really, Tom, you're going to have to accept the truth sooner or later."

"What is truth?" said Albus. "Is truth that Tom was nothing? Who are you to judge what is truth?"

"Tom, even if your memories were a person, they would most probably be evil. The would be just like Voldemort, and you-"

"If what you say is truth, than am I evil?"

"No, of course not," said Dumbledore quickly. "With your memories from your time as Albus, you can overcome those evil memories and be good-"

"And Tom couldn't?"

"Tom, your memories were evil. For a being to have only them would inevitably make them evil. But you have other memories, too."

"How did I get good memories? By being good! Tom was nice and good and kind to me, so he would have good memories. He could become good. That's how people become good or evil. It's not the memories of the past, but the actions of the present."

"Tom, what kind of talk is this-"

"MY NAME IS NOT TOM!" Albus bellowed.

"You've melded, so it is." Albus glared at Dumbledore.

"I am just as much Albus as Voldemort," he said. "Do you understand that? Just because I have the memories doesn't make me any less the person I was. I can't reconcile my two selves. Albus and Voldemort are constantly at war, with me in the middle."

"Then you must make Albus stronger than Voldemort. You are our last hope for wizard-kind."

"Albus is fading! I'm becoming more evil every day! You say that having these memories would make anyone evil. Congrats, you're right."

"Tom, it is my firm belief that your goodness will win over your evil-"

"Then why not for Tom?" said Albus. Dumbledore sighed again.

"Tom, you're memories are _evil._ Voldemort was _evil._ He had no redeeming qualities whatsoever." Albus glared at Dumbledore.

"What if you're wrong?" he said. Dumbledore opened his mouth to respond, but then a very strange thing happened. The nondescript world of Albus's dream blurred. The colors ran together like a too-wet watercolor painting. Out of this chaos came a familiar form.

"Tom!" Albus reached out to touch his friend, to make sure he was real, but before he could Tom held up a hand.

"Don't touch me, Albus," said Tom. "You won't be able to."

"Why not?" said Albus. Tom's mouth quirked into a sad half-smile.

"I'm not here, Albs. I'm just a figment of your overactive, slightly dirty imagination."

"But you are here. I- I can see you and everything."

"Come on, Alby," said Tom bitterly. "You've been told enough be Dumbles that I've never been here. It can't be that much of a stretch to believe I'm not here."

"Dumbledore is wrong," said Albus.

"Well, at least someone believes in me," said Tom. "Look, Albs, I'm not here. I don't exist, at least not in the sense I used to, if that was any sense at all. But I will never leave you, not really."

"So I did hear you at the funeral!" To Albus's surprise Tom laughed out loud.

"Oh, no, that wasn't me," said Tom. "Do I really sound like him? Must be ge-"

"What?" said Albus.

"Aw, never mind," said Tom. "You'll just have a new resident voice in your head, that's all. He'll start as soon as he's found out if Rose's friend is who he thinks he is."

"Do you know who's-"

"Of course not," said Tom, suddenly bitter. "I'm only told what I need to know, which is a grand total of nothing since I'm nonexistent. Even Dumbledork doesn't know what the hell I'm doing here, besides nothing, of course."

"You must exist somehow," said Albus. "I mean, you're here talking with me."

"Don't be so sure, Alby," said Tom. "This is only a dream. You're going to have to wake up someday."

"Maybe my life is a dream and this is reality," said Albus, sounding almost wistful.

"That would be horrible," said Tom. "Then both of us would have to put up with Dumbly all the time."

"At least you'll have some company," said Albus. Tom shrugged.

"Oh, I have friends. I think Fat Albert kind of likes me, or at least feels sorry for me. I don't know which is worse."

"You don't want to be liked?" said Albus.

"Let's just say that most people who liked Voldy just wanted a bit of his power. After experiences like that…" Tom trailed off and Albus nodded. He remembered now. All of those mangy boot-lickers, venerating him in hopes of the Dark Mark on their arms. Reflexively Albus grasped his left forearm and hissed. For a moment he had thought he'd felt the familiar pain of the brand.

"Damn," Albus muttered. Tom glanced at Albus's arm then up into his eyes.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" he said.

"It's not even really there," said Albus. Tom's smile looked evil in the strange half-light of the dream.

"Oh, really?" he said. "Roll up your sleeve, Albs." Albus stared at Tom uncomprehendingly. "Go on, roll it up. If you're right you have nothing to fear." Albus looked down at his arm, and then slowly rolled up his sleeve. Boldly outlined in black was the infamous Dark Mark: a snake protruding from the gaping mouth of a skull.

"It's there," Albus said, and then he looked up at tom, whose eyes were the size of hubcaps. "Why is it there?"

"You're closer to the edge," said Tom softly, and Albus was surprised to see that his friend's eyes were filled with tears.

"What do you mean?" said Albus. "What does th-this mean-" Tom abruptly turned away.

"The Voldy in you's getting stronger. At a certain point you'll have to choose good or evil. The edge is coming more quickly than Dumbles thought it would. Now-" Tom choked, then he took a deep breath to steady himself. "I'm sorry, Albs."

"For what?" said Albus. "You've never done anything wrong." Tom laughed hollowly.

"I guess I was wrong to say I've no part to play," he said, obviously to himself. "Dumbly's played me for a fool, just like he always has. You're going to hate me, just _hate_ me, when you realize what I've done."

"And what have you done?" said Albus. Tom turned, tears gone as though they had never existed. Perhaps they never had.

"What I've had to," he said with an air of morbid finality that scared Albus. "Albs, Alby," Tom's voice lowered to a whisper, "Albus, of Albus, if you do anything in your life don't take my advice. It only serves a dead man's end."

"I trust you, Tom," said Albus, though he wasn't even sure about that anymore. Tom looked up from the bit of ground he had been studying.

"You shouldn't," he said. "Good Merlin, Albus, you shouldn't." All of Albus's surroundings, including Tom, faded into wisps of smoke. Albus's eyes snapped open.

"Albus," said Amos, shaking his friend's shoulder, "you should hear what they're saying on _WWN._"

**_Well, there you are. The next chapter, "War News is Good News", will hopefully be up in a week. Reviews are my chocolate and coffee (that is to say, I live on them!)._**


	8. Chapter 8: War News is Good News

**_Here comes the next chapter! This is one of my longest chapters yet, twelve long-hand pages. Anyhoo, enjoy and R&R._**

Albus followed Amos into the Slytherin common room, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, to see almost their whole House clustered around an old portable.

"What's going on?" said Albus.

"Shh, just listen," said a pudgy girl Albus knew by sight to be Margo Benedict. Albus drew closer.

_"Quite a surprise move by the centaur population as they appear to be mobilizing for a major attack," _the announcer said. _"In blatant disregard of Ministry laws, they've sent runners, or gallopers so to speak, to the different reservations in Britain and Scotland. They have also sent one to the Ministry itself, telling our greatest leaders that they are starting the so-called 'War of Golend' and asking or our surrender. We now go to Jim, who is over at the Ministry in the wake of this shocking development-" _

"Shocking?" said Albus over the announcer, earning him a few glares. "What did they expect, for the centaurs to just lie down and take their bullshit?"

"What're you talking about, Potter?" said a fifth-year. "They're in rebellion!"

"The Ministry's been treating them like animals. The only way it could get worse is if they were branded and put in pens! How can they not fight?" Albus and the fifth-year's argument was attracting a fair bit of attention now.

"The Ministry is made of the greatest living wizards, including your dad, kid. I don't think-"

"Have you even seen a centaur reservation?" Albus snapped. "Because I have, and I can assure you it's not a pretty sight."

"When've you ever seen a centaur reservation?"

"My dad's in the Ministry remember?" said Albus, lying a little. "All non-humans get only one third of the land the Ministry owns. That's five limes the wizard population on the shittiest third of land. We're destroying their culture and history; we're starving them into obedience-"

"They're not human, kid," said the fifth-year dismissively.

"They're more human than we are if we can justify this- this dishonor."

"Chill, man. They're just little horses-"

"I dare you to say that in front of Professor Firenze." The fifth-year waved his hand lazily.

"He's a nutter," he said. "He just goes on about stars and burning herbs. Honestly, you'd think that Hogwarts would hire someone who'd actually teach us something."

"You make me sick," said Albus. The fifth-year opened his mouth to respond, but another voice stopped him.

"Aw, let the first-year speak, Dent," said a tiny third-year girl. Albus flashed her a grateful smile then turned his attention back to the fifth-year Dent in front of him.

"Do you even realize what you're doing?" said Albus, his voice soft, calm, and deadly. "You are a member of Slytherin House. We are hated, persecuted, and prejudiced against by the rest of the world in general. I don't think there's a single person in this room who hasn't at some time been put down for being a snake. Yet you still somehow think it right to dehumanize the centaurs. How can you do this?"

"They are of near-human intelligence-" Dent began, but Albus overrode him.

"Says who? The Ministry? They say we're evil, but that doesn't make us so. Because of a stereotype, a Ministry propaganda campaign, we are all counted as bad as Lord Voldemort himself. Are we to do the same thing to the centaurs?"

"They are unjustly attacking-"

"When all attempts at peace have failed, what option is there? War. War is the father of peace. War is what destroys empires, topples tyrannies, and raises the just up to the throne. And, when the power of their position warps justice into yet another evil, the new justice will rise in yet another bloody conflict. War is the fire that destroys the tares until only wheat remains. You may say the centaurs attack unjustly, but there is no such thing as an unjust war against injustice." Dent stumbled backwards a few paces.

"Potter, that- that's treason. You of all people-"

"I'd rather be part of a just war than an unjust peace," said Albus solemnly.

"You make pretty speeches, Potter, but how well do you expect the Ministry'd take this? You'd be killed!"

"The Ministry can go stuff itself. I don't owe them any respect. Maybe they were good at one point, or maybe they were just the lesser of the two evils, but they sure as hell aren't good now."

"Potter, you really shouldn't-" said Dent, looking around nervously.

"Shouldn't what? What shouldn't I do? Tell the truth? Look, I know who murdered Scorpius Malfoy and Douglas Adams-"

"That was the Ministry?" said Margo Benedict, leaning forward.

"As good as," said Albus. "She's a product of the Ministry's smear campaign, of the society she was born into, of-" He took a deep breath. "-of my evilness and failure." For a moment there was silence, the complete silence that seems to fill the room with unsaid words.

"What do you mean?" Dent whispered.

"I mean- I mean that I am the evil the world portrays you as. I am the cause of that effect."

"What are you?" said Dent. In response Albus peeled back the sleeve of his nightshirt to reveal his Dark Mark. Everyone instantly scrambled backwards, everyone but Dent, that is, who was seemingly transfixed by the ugly back symbol on Albus's arm. Staring at the Dark Mark, Dent took one faltering step forward.

"Where did you get it?" said Dent reverentially.

"I got it from myself," said Albus. Dent's eyes flickered up to Albus's face.

"You mean you're-" He broke off uncertainly.

"Yes," Albus said, barely loud enough for even Dent to hear.

"Y-you, y-you're-" he stuttered.

"You're right to fear me," said Albus. "You would be right to hate me, if that suited your fancy. I have done horrible things. I have condemned Slytherin House by my actions to the prejudice and distrust of others."

"My father says you're the best and most powerful wizard he ever served," said Dent.

"Most powerful? Perhaps. Best? Definitely not. Why would he think that?"

"You're evil," said Margo Benedict. Albus turned his gaze toward her and she shrunk back.

"I was," he said. "I'm trying not to be so much now." Margo looked at him suspiciously.

"Once you become evil, it's there in you forever," she said. "That's what my granddad says."

"Evil _is_ in me," Albus admitted. "Just as it in in you, in Dent, in Amos, in everyone. Humans in general, and wizards in particular, have the inner potential for evil. The difference between the devil and the angel is the choice they made. And, as a supposedly wise wizard once said, it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. The ability to do evil means nothing if you choose not to act on it. I'm choosing to turn my life around now, to not choose evil anymore." Margo cocked her head like a dog, studying Albus.

"It's hard, isn't it?" she said.

"Harder than you can imagine," Albus said truthfully. "But I'm not going to give in. I'm going to keep on fighting, just as the centaurs do, just as our parents and grandparents did, just as we all must."

"Who killed Malfoy and Adams?" said the same tiny girl who had interrupted Dent earlier. Albus turned his attention to her.

"McBrian, right?" he said. She nodded.

"Lesley McBrian."

"Well, Lesley, a… person killed them," said Albus, biting back the more vulgar descriptions that rose in his mind. "A Gryffindor who's declared herself the new Dark Lady. Her name is Rose Weasley." Lesley's mouth dropped open. Dent took the more direct approach.

"That's bullshit," he said.

"Believe me, I wish it was," said Albus. "I assure you, it is true. She's vowed to destroy everything she believes is evil, which unfortunately includes every one of us."

"That's evil," said Margo. "That's just sick."

"How can someone be that stupid?" said Lesley McBrian.

"Everyone believes themselves right and those against them wrong. It's only human. Rose-" Albus stopped, then swallowed and continued. "Rose has just taken her nature too far."

"But she's, well, she's a Weasley," said Margo. "Surely she can't be all that bad."

"If what Potter says is true, which I doubt," said Dent, "she is just as much of a killer as… well, as other people in history." Albus turned to Dent.

"I knew you weren't as thick as you make your father out to be," he said.

"I'm not talking about you in particular," said Dent quickly. Albus clapped the fifth-year on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I know just how evil I was. You don't have to be afraid of me, at least most of the time."

"Real comforting," Lesley snorted.

"Lesley," said Margo. "Please excuse my little friend there. She has no filter between her mind and her mouth."

"Neither do I, sometimes," said Albus.

"So, are we going to go kill some Gryffindors?" said Lesley perkily.

"Wait, aren't we even going to try to negotiate?" said Dent.

"Arnold Dent, we are out of the negotiation stage," said Lesley. "Isn't that right, Margo?"

"Actually, I agree with Arnold," said Margo tentatively. "We should at least try to avoid war. What do you think, Albus?"

"It really depends," said Albus. "Rose is beyond reason; I've tried that already. But there are people or groups of people who might be receptive to us if we get there first."

"Like who?" said Arnold Dent, sincerely interested.

"Many nonhumans, just like the centaurs," said Amos, stepping forward from behind Albus. "They're all mad about those new Ministry laws. Any former Slytherins could probably help, and Muggles, too, if we're desperate."

"Amos, Frank Longbottom, my brother James, and I have already managed to get several people on our side," said Albus. "We have Draco Malfoy and about seventy escaped Death Eaters, in addition to the centaurs."

"We'll need way more people to make an army," said Lesley. Albus looked around to see many people nodding in agreement.

"First of all, I want you to know that I'm not forcing you to join me. It will be risky. People will most likely die while fighting Rose. This is not a game. This is not like in class. So if anyone wants to leave and not be part of this, now's your chance. No one will stop you." Nobody moved. "Well," said Albus awkwardly, "that's that then."

"What can we do to get more allies?" said a bespectacled third-year. Albus looked at the boy critically.

"What's your name?" he said.

"Harvard Dent," the third-year said. "Arnold's my older brother." A strange gleam entered Albus's eyes.

"Ah ha!" he said. Arnold eyed him nervously.

"How are you planning to humiliate us?" he said.

"Can you two do bubblehead charms?" said Albus. The brothers nodded. "Brilliant! As soon as you can, get to the library. Read up on mere people, especially their history and culture, but make sure that nobody knows what you're doing. You two have just been made our official envoys to the mere people."

"Where are we even supposed to find these guys?" said Arnold.

"There are some right at the bottom of the Great Lake. You couldn't ask for a better opportunity."

"Awesome, we'll do-" Harvard began, but his brother interrupted him.

""What if we can't convince them to help us? What if we accidentally offend them and they get violent?"

"That is the point of trying to find out about their culture. If we do this right, we won't offend anyone but Rose. As for your first question," Albus said, "if they don't accept, we don't push them. Make it very clear to all magical nonhumans that his is a _choice_. We don't bug them or force them. We simply thank them for their time and leave. Above all, courtesy. Don't act like you're superior to them. If anything, you should act like the inferior, especially if you're brought in front of one of their leaders."

"But they're-" Arnold began.

"Yes, they're not human. Have you ever heard of a mere person Inquisition? A house elf Crusade? A centaur Holocaust?"

"Humans suck compared to them," said Lesley. Albus nodded.

"And those are just things Muggles have done. With a wizard's magic comes more power and more opportunities to misuse it."

"Well, we have an envoy to the mere people," said Amos. "Who else wants to-"

"Me and Margo can do the house elves," said Lesley.

"It'll be difficult," said Amos. "House elves are-"

"Oh, I know house elves," said Lesley. "My family has two of them. One of them, Mittens, is very upset about the Ministry crap. She doesn't want her baby- she's pregnant- to be sold. 'Mittens is very sad, Mistress,' she told me. 'Mittens has been serving McBrians all her life, and she is not wanting any bad masters for her little Blinker.' It's horrible, I think. House elves get so attached to their families, you know, and to put every child up for sale like an animal is the ultimate insult."

"Well, you certainly know a lot about the subject," said Albus, stifling a smile. "Do the same thing as the Dents with Margo. You know where the kitchens are?"

"Duh!" said Lesley.

"Lesley!" said Margo. Albus actually did smile this time.

"You might want to let Margo do the talking, Lesley," he said.

"Right," said Lesley, making as though to go out the door right that moment.

"Wait until a better time, like after dinner or something!" Albus called out after her. Lesley looked back at him, confused.

"I'm just going to breakfast," she said. Albus looked down at his watch and yelped. Breakfast was almost over.

"Well, we'll meet again after classes," he said. With that the new Life Barfers were dismissed.

**_There you go! Man, this thing is going to be a ridiculous length by the time it's done. Review, please!_**


	9. Chapter 9: Twists and Turns

**_Well, here goes the next one. This chapter is kind of random, but it made sense at the time. I hope you like._**

Nothing of great importance happened for many weeks, until February had nearly ended. In that time several more envoys had been put together: one to the giants, one to the goblins, and a very tentative and nervous one to the werewolves. Margo and Lesley had made several trips down to the kitchens, but the Dent brothers had decided to wait until June to attempt to contact the mere people. That was probably a good idea.

The important and slightly frightening thing that happened near the end of February began first thing on a frosty Friday morning. Albus woke up to see a pair of large green eyes about five inches from his own.

"Merlin's boxers!" he shouted, scrambling backwards.

"Crisper did not mean to startle Master Potter," said a house elf whose name was evidently Crisper. "Crisper was only meaning to fetch Master Potter for his meeting with the Headmistress."

"What meeting?" Albus said a bit stupidly. To be fair, he was still half asleep and honestly didn't know what Crisper was talking about.

"Crisper is not knowing what Master's meeting is about, sir," said Crisper. "Headmistress Mistress McGonagall called Crisper up from the kitchens and told Crisper to bring Master Albus to her. It is sounding very urgent, sir." Albus sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Fine, just let me get some robes on," he said.

"Yes, Master Potter," said Crisper, who then stood back and watched Albus with and air of veneration and awe. After a few moments of Crisper's disorientating staring, Albus decided to ask the house elf about it.

"Crisper apologizes if he has offended Master Potter," said Crisper. "The kitchen elves have heard many stories of your greatness."

"Oh, have you?" said Albus. Crisper nodded.

"Mistress McBrian and Mistress Benedict comes down often. They stays for tea and tells Crisper stories of Master Potter."

"What have you been told?"

"Master Potter is great and good. He fights against Mistress Weasly. He is wanting and army to help him fight her, but many bad wizards is refusing to help Master Potter and his friends."

"That's… mostly true," said Albus, trying not to laugh. "A bit exaggerated, of course. How are you and all the house elves taking this?" Crisper's large ears drooped.

"Ah, Master Albus, it is a bad thing. Some says to follow Master Albus. Some says to stay with our Masters. We has never been in such discord, sir. We is not knowing what to do with it." Albus turned to Crisper, fully dressed now.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" said Albus. Crisper's large eyes grew larger.

"We was told you was good, Master Albus," he said, "but Crisper was never knowing how good."

"What do you mean?"

"Master talks- Master talks as though house elves' problems matter." Crisper shuddered, as though common courtesy was a rare and treasured thing. "Crisper is thinking that you is a good Master, sir. Crisper is wondering- well, it is hard to know how to begin."

"Just at the beginning," said Albus, crouching down to Crisper's level.

"Well, Crisper has a- a wife, Master Albus. She is being called Minty. Crisper is not wanting his child to be sold, sir. He- he is wondering if you will buy his child."

"Why are you asking me, of all people?" said Albus.

"Crisper knows you are a great wizard," said Crisper. "If you will be buying our child, Crisper and Minty is going to be able to see it, maybe. Crisper has 14 Galleons, sir. He is able to help in the paying."

"Crisper," said Albus, "elves cost a lot more than 14 Galleons. I'm not sure I have enough money to buy your son or daughter." Crisper looked like he was about to cry. "However," Albus continued, "I will do my best." Crisper's expression was one of utmost surprise and ecstasy. He threw himself at Albus, hugging his leg and blubbering.

"Crisper is so thankful, sir!" he said. "He will be telling that Master Albus is a good and great wizard to everyone!" Albus put his arms awkwardly around Crisper.

"Look, Crisper," he said when Crisper still showed no sign of letting up, "could you please take me to McGonagall's office? You said it was urgent." Crisper jumped off Albus's leg.

"Of course, Master Albus," he said. "Follow Crisper!" So Albus did follow him out of the Slytherin quarters and through the still-sleeping school. They stopped in front of a gargoyle.

"Monkeys," said Crisper, and the gargoyle leaped aside. Crisper led Albus up a spiral staircase to a large door. Albus looked at the house elf as though for permission, and when Crisper nodded he knocked on the door. Almost immediately it opened to reveal the Headmistress sitting at her desk.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," she said, "you are rather late. No matter." McGonagall looked up from her work for the first time, and Albus couldn't help but notice how tired and drawn she looked. Albus stepped into the office and heard the doors boom behind him. McGonagall's office was just as plain and crisp as the woman herself. The only pieces of furniture were a desk, two chairs, and a curious cabinet that looked rather out of place. Stern rows of former heads adorned the walls. The only thing that could be considered a personal touch was that McGonagall still wore the dark red velvet robes of a Gryffindor Head of House.

"Why did you want to see me?" said Albus. McGonagall's lips thinned.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter," she said. Albus sat in the unoccupied chair. "Would you care for a ginger newt?" she said, producing a tin from inside her desk.

"No, thank you, Professor," said Albus. McGonagall studied him for a moment, and then placed the tin on top of her desk.

"Mr. Potter, it has come to my attention through your brother that you have been having… troubles adjusting to Hogwarts."

"What?" said Albus. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been this.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "It is understandable, completely understandable, especially considering your circumstances. Why, only ten years ago we had a Muggleborn Slytherin claiming that he was a descendent of Merlin."

"What has James been telling you?" said Albus, propelled to his feet, hoping beyond hope that this was one of his brother's awful jokes.

"Please sit down, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall. "Now, I realize the pressures you must be under due to your family and the social climate lately, but you cannot persist in claiming that you are the late Lord Voldemort. Moreover, you cannot say that your cousin, a first-year like yourself, is the new Dark Lady."

"But I am Voldemort," said Albus. "Rose is the Dark Lady. Everything I've said is true."

"Mr. Potter, I've thought about this long and hard. I believe that counseling with Madam Pomfrey is the best option for you under the circumstances." Albus's mouth dropped open.

"W- what?" he said weakly. McGonagall looked at him sharply over her eyeglasses.

"Would you rather that I got you professional help at St. Mungo's?" she said, then she sighed. "Believe me, Mr. Potter, its better this way. You won't miss any school and we can make sure this disturbs you and the other students as little as possible." Albus finally recovered his voice.

"Professor, I- I believe you're mistake," he stammered. "I'm not crazy."

"That remains to be seen, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall grimly. "I have already sent an owl to your parents to tell them about this unfortunate matter and assure them that you are in the best of care. There will be no need for you to see them until the summer unless, of course, you wish to go home for the Easter holidays." Albus felt as though he was sinking deeper and deeper into a nightmare. Professor McGonagall didn't believe him. Somehow Albus had never even considered the possibility until that moment, and the prospect of someone, even someone as kind as McGonagall, dismissing him as crazy was more frightening than that person hating him. It didn't even occur to Albus to show her his Dark Mark, the one real proof he had of his truthfulness.

Behind Albus the doors crashed open. He spun around to see Madam Pomfrey stride into the room with his brother trailing guiltily behind her. The snake inside Albus rose at the sight of his brother.

"You!" he said, his voice high-pitched and weak. "Why did you betray me?" Madam Pomfrey looked at McGonagall, eyebrows raised.

"He's in a bad way, Poppy," said the Headmistress, confirming the unsaid thought. Madam Pomfrey nodded and moved forward as though to grasp Albus's wrist. Albus scurried away from her, his eyes still fixed on James.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you handing me over to them?" he tried to shout, but it came out as a whisper.

"They'll fix you, Al," said James. "I'm sorry." Madam Pomfrey finally managed to catch hold of Albus. As soon as she did Albus went limp, all the fight leaving him. There was no escape, but as Madam Pomfrey gently but briskly led him out of the office he summoned the will to twist around to look at his brother.

"I trusted you!" he yelled. "I _trusted _you!"

**_Yeah, so Albus is off to a padded cell. That can't be good. Sorry I'm a little late this week, finals threw me off a bit. Review!_**


	10. Chapter 10: Beginnings of Insanity

**_I meant to update yesterday, but I had a forensics tournament. Our school got third place out of about fifteen, so, yeah, that was good. Unfortunately it also threw me majorly off. Anyways, here's the next chapter of this giant thingy. _**

During the two weeks that Albus was secluded in the hospital wing there were as many theories and rumors flying around about what was the matter with him as there were gossips in Hogwarts. Of all these there were only a few that hit even close to the truth, and some that attached Albus's "disappearance" to the other curious things that had been happening lately in the strange way rumors do. For instance, a particularly creative Hufflepuff claimed that the Albus in the hospital wing was a decoy and that the real Albus had run to the Forbidden Forest to help the centaurs in their war. Thus it became popular opinion among certain groups that Albus was the instigator of the War of Goland and had gone to the hospital wing because of a rare centaur-born disease.

James had immediately gone to Frank after the scene in McGonagall's office, mostly because Frank was one of the few people both he and Albus were friends with. As James told his story Frank had grown more and more distressed. When James had ended his dramatic tale Frank had jumped up and immediately went to the hospital wing. He had requested to see Albus, but Madam Pomfrey had refused, saying that Albus could not be seen under any circumstances. Centaur disease theorists rejoiced. As for James, he was forced to consider the possibility that he had just lost a good friend.

How was Albus during this brief period? Though his condition can be truly assessed by no one other than himself, a conversation between Madam Pomfrey and Headmistress McGonagall can reveal it at least partially. It had been a week since Albus had been admitted to the hospital when Madam Pomfrey marched up to McGonagall's office for the requested report on Albus's condition. McGonagall looked up as soon as Pomfrey walked through the doors.

"How is he, Poppy?" she said. "Is he any better?" Madam Pomfrey shook her head.

"When he isn't on the potions he doesn't respond to anything at all," she said. "I'm afraid this is quite out of my field of experience, Minerva. I respect the fact that you don't want him to miss school, but he's missed a week already and I'm no closer to helping him than last Friday. You have to admit that St. Mungo's is better equipped to help the poor boy. They may have gotten results by now." McGonagall sighed.

"If we move him, I'll have to really write his father," she said.

"You mean you haven't?"

"Well, strictly speaking, I have," said McGonagall with a small, tired smile. "I told Harry his son had gotten a superficial injury and that the letter was rather a formality-"

"You _lied _to his family?" gasped Pomfrey. McGonagall waved her hand absentmindedly at the astonished nurse.

"I made sure that Harry wouldn't rush over here like the hot-headed idiot he is," she said. "I certainly don't want to hurt Albus any more than we already have, and an interrogation by his father would only complicate matters." Pomfrey nodded reluctantly.

"What of St. Mungo's?" the nurse said. "I don't think there's anything more I can do for him here. He really should be with professional healers. I can recommend him."

"St. Mungo's is the last place I want him to go," said McGonagall darkly, "but I must say I'm inclined to agree with you, Poppy."

"So I should send the director an owl?" said Pomfrey, already standing up from the chair. McGonagall held up her hand in the universal stop sign.

"Not yet," she said. "Keep him in the wing for another week. Do what you can for him. If he hasn't improved the least bit _I _shall write to St. Mungo's." Madam Pomfrey nodded sharply then began to stride out of the room, but before she reached the doors there was a tentative knock from the outside. The two witches exchanged a puzzled look, and then Madam Pomfrey opened the doors to reveal Frank Longbottom. His eyes flickered from McGonagall to Pomfrey.

"Am I interrupting something?" he said in his low, measured voice.

"Um, absolutely not," squeaked Pomfrey. "I was just going to be leaving." She scurried out of the office, letting the doors bang shut.

"Interesting," said Frank, looking thoughtfully after the nurse.

"Why are you here, Mr. Longbottom?" said McGonagall. Frank turned to her.

"Oh, I'm just here to request information on a friend," he said. "All Pop- Madam Pomfrey will tell me is that he is not to see anyone."

"He?" said McGonagall, hoping that Frank wasn't talking about Albus.

"One Albus Potter," said Frank. "I believe you know him."

"H- he is indisposed," said McGonagall. "He cannot see visitors at this time." Frank's black eyes studied her like an interesting sample under a microscope.

"How?" said Frank.

"How?" gasped McGonagall, a bit stupidly.

"How did he come to be in such a… position," Frank said. "I saw him only the night before he was sent to the hospital wing, and he seemed perfectly all right."

"So he didn't tell you?" said McGonagall, finally recovering a measure of control over herself and the situation.

"Tell me what?" said Frank, not sounding at all concerned.

"So he hasn't told you," said McGonagall, relieved.

"Told me what?"

"I am not at liberty to tell students that, Mr. Longbottom." Frank stood still for a moment, musing, and then a tiny smile curled into existence on his pale face.

"How about a fellow professor, Minerva?" he said softly. McGonagall tensed.

"What did you say?" she snapped. Frank slowly stepped forward, his cloak billowing behind him much as it had in his former life. Never before had he seemed so much more Snape than Frank.

"You know what I said, Minerva," he whispered. "I believe introductions will be unnecessary."

"I don't believe this," said McGonagall flatly. "This is understandable in Mr. Potter, but not in you. These absurdities must come to an end."

"What at first appears absurd may, in fact, be perfectly reasonable if you were to take the time to listen, Minerva," said a snide voice behind McGonagall. The head's head whipped around.

"You stay out of this, Severus," she said.

"Personally, I would be inclined to… hear myself out if I were you," said the portrait of the dead Slytherin headmaster.

"Are you saying this boy is-" McGonagall stopped and shook her head. "Severus, that's impossible."

"It isn't," said Frank. "Just like Albus, I've been reborn." For a moment McGonagall looked as though she was about to faint. Then, gradually, she took tight rein over her emotions.

"That's impossible, simply impossible," she said briskly.

"But, Professor-" Frank began.

"Mr. Longbottom, no magic can raise the dead. What you are telling me is a bold-faced lie."

"Minerva, you are making a grave mistake," said Snape's portrait.

"Mistake? Mistake? Both these boys are obviously insane, unless, of course, Mr. Longbottom is simply playing a practical joke of poor taste. In fact, that is probably the case. I simply don't have time for this right now, you two. The centaurs may threaten the school at any time-"

"Doubt it," Frank muttered.

"Why not? They have attacked Diagon Ally already! The only reason no one was killed was because Aurors were immediately summoned to subdue the centaurs. Hogwarts may be in danger and you are wasting my time with childish pranks!" Frank looked over McGonagall's shoulder at the portrait of himself.

"Invincible ignorance," he said. Snape's lip curled.

"Indeed," he said. "You'd think that a witch that spent her time lusting after a man almost less than half her age would be more thrilled to hear that he had come back in a kissable form." McGonagall's face turned red.

"I never _lusted _after you, Severus," she said. Frank and Snape each raised their left eyebrow.

"Really?" they said in unison. McGonagall looked from one to the other, flabbergasted.

"Now I know you're both playing a joke on me," she said. "Severus, was this your idea?"

"When would I have the time to come up with such a plot?" he said seriously, though it must be admitted that his lips twitched slightly.

"Oh, you're always going away at night. Don't think I don't know." Snape coughed slightly.

"Actually," he said, "there are some very lovely waitresses down on the second floor. Get them drunk enough and they'll let you-"

"That is, I believe, the definition of too much information," interrupted Frank.

"Respect your elders, boy. I was just answering Minerva," said Snape.

"Yeah, you do that," said Frank, backing out of the room. "I'll be in my dorm, listening to The Hobgoblins." He quickly ran out of the office. When Snape was sure Frank was out of hearing distance he began to chuckle.

""I don't see what's so funny about this, Severus," snapped McGonagall. "Giving out details like that in front of an innocent boy." Instantly Snape stopped laughing and stared after Frank almost tenderly.

"Not innocent, Minerva," he said softly. "Too far from innocent." Suddenly he smiled at McGonagall evilly. "Besides, you should have seen your face when I mentioned those waitresses. You were red as a beet." McGonagall promptly became so again.

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"WAS NOT!"

Exactly one week later Albus was sent to St. Mungo's, and Frank and Amos were forced to temporarily take over leadership of the Life Barfers.

**_Well, there you have it then. Remember, reviews are my muse's lifeblood._**


	11. Chapter 11: Consequences of Truth

**_This will be a really long author's note, since I want to clear a few things up. _**

**_First of all, McGonagall. I've gotten a lot of reviews from people who seem to think that she's evil and mean for not believing Albus and Frank. To these people I have two responses. One: what would you think if someone came and told you that his little brother thought he was Voldemort? You'd try to get that little brother as much help as possible, wouldn't you? If your answer is yes, then you are like McGonagall. Congrats. Later on, when she refuses to believe Frank (and the Snape portrait), she just can't believe that such a thing could happen. As she says, not magic can raise the dead. This is a rule that I blatantly ignored, and you shouldn't blame McGonagall for my diverting from the lovely canon JK gave us. _**

**_If you have any questions, comments, or just want to tell me I'm an idiot, feel free to leave a review or PM me. Also, to avoid any confusion, the first part of this chapter _****is ****_being told from Albus's (very confusing) POV._**

Tommy stared at the blank white ceiling. Or perhaps it was the wall. It didn't matter really. Everything looks the same through closed eyes. Tommy's head buzzed from the last potion they had given him. He couldn't really think, just buzz along with it like an eagle gliding on a wind. This wind would smash it straight into a cliff. Tommy knew he should fight it, but right at that moment he was too weak to try.

The cliff face was coming. Tommy giggled as the heavy footsteps stopped by his bedside. He'd just made a joke and a good one too.

"How are you doing, Mr. Potter?" said a voice above him. Tommy opened his eyes to see a bearded face looming over him.

"Hiya, Dr. Cliff," said Tommy, still giggling a little. "Have any eagles smashed into you lately?" Dr. Cliff sighed, making a note on his clipboard with a weird quill pen.

"What potion have they given you?" he said.

"An annoying one," whined Tommy. "All it does is make my head buzz. It hurts to think." Dr. Cliff nodded and made another note.

"What is your name, young man?" he said. Tommy's eyebrows scrunched together.

"Don't you know?" he said.

"You've been in an accident. We're just checking for trauma and concussions." Tommy frowned. He didn't remember any accident.

"Well, my name's Tommy Riddle," he said. Dr. Cliff sighed again.

"How old are you?"

"Eleven. I'll be twelve in three months. I'm a wizard; did you know that? Someday I'll be the best wizard ever."

"Why?" Tommy's face suddenly got solemn.

"Because when you're the best you don't get hurt. When you're the best, people like you. The kids at Hogwarts won't be able to believe what I'm able to do! That guy who came, Dumbledore, he said that I was special because I can talk to snakes." Dr. Cliff just shook his head sadly and began to walk away. "You don't believe me?" Dr. Cliff turned around to see Tommy sitting up in bed and looking even paler than he usually did.

"Of course I do," said Dr. Cliff too quickly. Tommy just glared at the doctor.

"I can prove it," he said. "I can prove it to you. I'm not weak!'' Tommy let out a strangled hissing noise that sounded like he was having a seizer. Dr. Cliff ran towards the bed, but before he got there a snake had slithered from the darkest corner of the room into Tommy's waiting hands. Tommy looked at the terrified doctor smugly.

"See? I told you I could," he said. "He says his name's Henry. You want to hold him?" Needless to say, Dr. Cliff got out of the room as quickly as possible.

_thisisalineawhatalineawhatal ineohaline_

Tom was crying and he didn't know why. This potion didn't hurt as much as some of the other ones had, but inside he hurt more than ever. Dr. Cliff stopped again by his bedside, and Tom looked up at him.

"I- I killed them," he said. Dr. Cliff's jaw tightened.

"Who?" he said, his voice somehow calm.

"My father," said Albus, "and my grandparents. They deserved it, though. They all did."

"Why?" said Cliff, recovering himself enough to make a few scratches on his clipboard.

"They abandoned my mum," said Tom, his voice hardening. "Those dirty Muggles killed her. So I killed them. I don't regret it."

"Then why were you crying?" Tom smiled bitterly through the tears.

"You do like asking the hard questions, don't you?" he said. "I'm crying because- I don't know. I thought killing them would make everything better. It hasn't."

"Why would that be?" said Dr. Cliff, intrigued by the boy in spite of himself. It was almost like studying and attempting to help Voldemort himself.

"I don't know," said Tom. "Maybe it was because of the way they died. It was… quick. One wave of my wand and it was like they never had existed. I don't like death, I think."

"What will you do now?" said Dr. Cliff. Tom turned away from him.

"I feel like a monster," he said, "b- but they're the ones who hurt me. Muggles are the real monsters, right? It's their fault."

"And?" said Dr. Cliff. Tom turned around, and Cliff was frightened by how little he saw in the young man's eyes.

"I hate them," said Tom. "I hate them all. I hate the fact that wizards and witches have to live in fear of creatures that don't have a drop of magical blood in them. From now on, any Muggle who so much as thinks of hurting a wizard is going to answer to me."

"More death and pain won't bring your mother back," said Dr. Cliff. Tom glared at the doctor.

"I know that," he said, "but this way, no one will have to grow up alone like I did. I'm not going to be able to save my mum; it's too late for that now. But I can save other's mums."

"And when you die?"

"I'm not going too. That's my other project. I'm going to find an easy way to immortality, easier than a Philosopher's Stone. That way nobody'll die and leave sadness behind." Dr. Cliff almost sympathized, and then he remembered what this boy would do. This boy, this sorrowful young man, would become Voldemort.

_thisisalineawhatalineawhatal ineohaline_

The next time Dr. Cliff saw Tom the boy was lying down, white as the sheets of the hospital bed.

"What have you done this time?" said Cliff. Tom looked over at Dr. Cliff, remorse filling his eyes.

"I- I killed him," he whispered.

"Who?" said Dr. Cliff. Tom paused.

"You won't tell Dumbledore?" he pleaded.

"Of course not," said Cliff. Tom nodded.

"Good," he said. "I killed a- a wizard last night." Cliff's blood stopped cold.

"What?" Tom began to sob.

"I- I didn't mean to, but he was protecting that old h- hawk. I- I had to. S- She'd called him a freak. She _h- hurt _him."

"Who was she?"

"His a- aunt," said Tom, sniffling. "I- I didn't mean to, I swear. It all h- happened so fast."

"Why would you try to kill her if she had a wizard nephew? After all, the blood bonds may have led him to love her despite her shortcomings."

"Well, that's his shortcoming then, isn't it?" said Tom bitterly. "Couldn't he see I was only helping him? Now-" Tom choked on his regret and pain. "He was only a second-year. How could he have thought he had a chance against me?"

"Maybe he didn't," said Cliff, "but he knew he couldn't let his family die without a fight." Tom looked into the distance, and then smiled bitterly, musing the doctor's words.

"Why did he love her? Why wouldn't he want justice to be given?"

"It all depends on your definition of justice."

"Muggles are the ones who've forced us into hiding. I'm making them pay for that, so that we don't have to live like this much longer. I'll make them fear us."

"Why?" said Dr. Cliff. "Why can't you just leave them be?" Tom's face transformed into something ugly.

"It's all their fault!" he shouted. "Every bad thing that's happened has had a Muggle as its cause. I'll kill them all and everyone who gets in the way of justice, too. It's for _good_." Dr. Cliff took a step backwards. He knew now that he was witnessing the death throes of Tom Riddle and the birth of Voldemort. From now on there would be no second guessing, no remorse, no excitement, no _anything_.

Cliff felt his heart break. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right for such an innocent boy, a boy who just wanted to be loved and accepted, to become the darkest lord of all time. It wasn't right what Voldemort would do, but at the same time Cliff could completely sympathize with the boy- no, young man, who had such a noble cause at heart but had somehow lost that.

What destruction will be wrought by the boy who wanted to be "the best wizard ever"!

_thisisalineawhatalineawhatal ineohaline_

When Dr. Cliff next went to Tom's room, he expected a full-grown killer on his hands. Instead he found his patient sitting up in bed, looking extremely tired and entirely lucid.

"Are you-" Cliff began.

"I'm fine," said Tom. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out when I was having all those Voldemort attacks. Potions must really not help." Cliff stared.

"You're yourself," he said slowly. "That's progress." Tom just sighed.

"No, I'm not myself. I'm someone completely different."

"What do you mean by that?" said Dr. Cliff, more than used to his patient's sometimes strange statements by now.

"The… walls, so to speak, between my Voldemort self and my Potter self have broken down. They're still distinctly separate, but it can't be balanced anymore. I'm blended."

"Are you all right?" said Dr. Cliff, who was quite frankly baffled by what was happening. Tom nodded.

"It hurt more than anything," he whispered. "I knew when I decided to immerse myself in Voldemort that it would hurt. But is I didn't do it, if I didn't break my heart, then things would just get worse. It's like a bandage: better to get it off all at once than slowly, agonizingly."

"How could you do it?" There was a tone of amazement in the doctor's voice. From what he'd heard, his patient had just as good as cured his own mental illness.

"I guess I just kept telling myself that the end would justify all the pain it took to get there."

"Is that the only answer I'll get to my question?" Tome smiled.

"Do I need to say any more? I've broken the wall; isn't that enough? I'm free of the artificial limitation I'd imposed on myself." Dr. Cliff sighed.

"Fine," he said, "just answer this one question. Who are you now?" Tom paused, tilting his head as though studying the simple question from every loaded angle.

"My name is Albus Potter," he said, sounding a little surprised at his answer. He didn't say the words he knew should come after. _For now._

**_There we go, then. The next chapter we'll see how the Life Barfers have fared in Albus's absence, then Albus will be back at Hogwarts and we'll be almost to Easter Vacation. Now that's a segment I've been looking forward to for a long time. Adios, and review!_**


	12. Chapter 12:Gold That Does Not Glitter

**_Hello again! Sorry if I'm a little late this week. My mom got real sick, so I've had to sort of take care of my younger siblings all week. As you can imagine, that doesn't leave a lot of time for fan fiction writing. Anyways, here's "The Gold That Does Not Glitter"._**

While Albus was freaking out physiologists, the Life Barfers were struggling. Though they got support of the Hogwarts house elves due to Crisper's assertion that Albus was a "good master", all the delegations were feeling discouraged and useless without a center to rally them and give them hope by his example. To make matters worse, McGonagall began calling Slytherins into her office at random and telling them, on no uncertain terms, that if they continued to believe Albus's "lies" then they'd be put in detention. That put a damper on the party, but it was obviously a little too late to stop them.

On the second Saturday after Albus was sent to St. Mungo's another thing happened that took already complicated matters and tangled them into an impossible snarl. Amos and a small group of Slytherins were walking on the grounds near the Forbidden Forest, mostly because they were certain their common room was bugged. James was following behind them, interested in the conversation but trying not to show it.

"So the rest of the delegations will have to wait until spring or at least Easter," Amos was saying. "We're being watched too closely to do anything from this end-" Suddenly Amos stopped, noticing James, and his face hardened. "Well, look who's here." The other Slytherins glowered at James, making his face burn with anger.

"At least I'm not being sneaky," he snapped back. "What're you snakes planning, an overthrow of the Ministry?" There was an uproar of protests, but Amos quieted them with a wave of his hand, his eyes sparking.

"What business is it of yours?" said Amos coldly. "You've chosen your lot."

"Evil plans are my business," said James.

"Great. Give us some." The Slytherins snickered. Snarling, James pulled his wand from the depths of his robe and shot a curse at Amos. It missed the first-year by a hair.

"Why you-" one of the Slytherins shrieked. James responded by throwing a hex her way, forcing her to hide behind one of the Forbidden Forest's trees.

"You'd better come out and play," he said. "You don't want to be expelled when you're already so close."

"Didn't your mummy ever teach you to duel, Potter," said a low voice behind James. James whirled around to see a perfectly calm Frank Longbottom.

"Stay out of this," snarled James.

"I don't believe I can do that," said Frank. "You see, it would be cowardly to stand aside and watch a fifth-year beat up some first-years, while it would be quite courageous to duel him."

"You're forgetting that you're a first-year, too." Frank smiled.

"Want a bet?"

"A bet on what?" said James.

"On whether I can beat you in a fair duel. I bet you a Sickle I can." James smiled then, but cruelly.

"I accept," he said, nodding curtly. "It will only make your defeat more humiliating." James shot a stream of orange sparks at Frank. Frank easily sidestepped it.

"Now, now," he said. "First, my good friend, we must bow. You wouldn't want it said that you denied someone of your own House common courtesy." James reluctantly consented. Both boys bowed, though Frank's was low, almost mockingly so, while James's was short and stiff.

"Now," said James when they came up again, "we fight." So they did. James threw spells, whether from books or of his own invention, rentlessly at Frank, who easily blocked or dodged them all. As the duel wore on James became more and more frustrated, while Frank became more and more in his element. In fact, Frank had known from the beginning that the fifth-year would be no match against a one-time Death Eater.

"James," said Frank, swallowing the dislike he felt at _that _name. "James, just listen to me."

"You-son-of-a-Death-Eater," James said very fast. Frank had to stifle his laughter.

"Look, James, let's be reasonable," he said. "If we get caught doing this, we'll both be expelled for sure."

"Do-you-think-I-give-a-shit?" said James, fire burning in his eyes. Frank sighed, then with a crack James's wand flew from the older boy's hand. James scrambled after it only to find Frank's wand at his throat.

"Why are you doing this?" Frank said quietly.

"This is between me and the Slytherins, Frank," James growled. "You have nothing to do with it."

"I'll judge that for myself once I hear what your problem is." James just glared at Frank for a moment before abruptly relaxing.

"You want to help him just as much as I do," he said. "You're his friend, Frank. I swear that these Slytherins have corrupted him."

"Corrupted who?" said Frank.

"Albus! He was doing just fine until he started hanging out with those snakes!" Frank's mouth dropped open, then he began to laugh. "This isn't funny!"

"I- It wasn't them who cor- corrupted him," said Frank, interrupting himself periodically with his own laughs. "It was Dum- Dumbledore." James was understandably confused.

"Dumbledore?" he said. "You mean that portrait in McGonagall's office?" Frank shook his head, still grinning.

"No, I mean the dead guy, Potter," he said. "Although, quite honestly, you probably blame it on me or Fat Albert."

"On _who_?" said James.

"Another dead wizard," said Frank matter-of-factly. "I bet you think I'm just as loony as you think Albus is. I swear to you, I'm not. Severus Snape, at your service." He held out his hand politely. James Potter stared at the hand, then very slowly reached out his own and shook it. It was a historic moment. When their hands met, the mental equivalent of fireworks exploded inside James's brain. Neurons connected on their own accord, imprinting just the proof he needed to believe Frank and Albus: the phantom, the merest whisper of that voice from another time. Two generations ago another James Potter, our James's grandfather, had bullied a child just Frank's age on the very spot they happened to be standing on.

James had not been reborn. Instead a gift had been given to him by his dead grandfather. It was those words, those six simple words. _I swear to you, I'm not. _Those six words had been spoken decades ago by Severus Snape; now they were spoken by Frank Longbottom under completely different circumstances. It was close enough. A ray of sunlight had filled James's clouded, confused, yet somehow completely innocent mind. He looked up at Frank from where he had collapsed, then took the man's proffered hand.

"Thanks," he grunted as he pulled himself up. He was thoroughly embarrassed. If Frank was really Snape then… then Albus may be Voldemort. James immediately felt crushing shame. His brother, who he had privately vowed to protect, may have been telling the truth, and James had betrayed him. For a moment James was on the verge of an epiphany, of coming into complete understanding of his fault. If he had succeeded, who knows what might have happened. He may have become a hero.

It was not to be. Gradually the incoming epiphany receded beneath a tidal wave of humanity. James began putting the fault that he knew was his on everyone but himself. He searched for artificial absolution, and found a target in the Slytherins, for which he already nursed a healthy amount of prejudice and dislike. His mind concocted illogical solutions, until he found a way in which he was not totally in the wrong. It was their fault.

"You know what we have to do, Frank," said James.

"What?" said Frank cluelessly.

"Albus is fighting the Voldemort inside himself. We can't let him take over." For a moment Frank smiled in relief at James's understanding the situation, but that smile froze when James brought up his wand and pointed it squarely at Frank's chest.

"What are you doing?" said Frank. "James, I'm trying to help Albus just as much as you are-"

"I realize that," said James calmly. "Please step aside."

"What are you doing?" said Frank, not moving an inch. James's face fell.

"I thought you knew," he said. "No matter. I'll tell you now."

"Tell him what?" said Amos from behind Frank.

"The truth," James snarled at the Slytherin.

"What is truth?" said Frank softly.

"The truth is that these Slytherins have been pushing Albus closer and closer to evil all along. He's reached out to you and me, Frank. He's calling for help from us against these- these Death Eater." Amos's mouth dropped open.

"What kind of story is that?" said Frank.

"Why won't you believe me?" said James angrily. "You're a good Gryffindor; you _know _what Slytherins are."

"Our rivals in the House and Quiddich cups," said Frank. "It is a long and meaningless relationship that shouldn't matter half as much as it evidentially does."

"They're evil!" said James, his wand shaking in his hand. "There isn't a single wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin."

"How many wizards have gone bad, exactly?" said Frank. "Only a small number of Slytherins, no doubt. Besides, look at Quirril and Wormtail, a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor. There have been good Slytherins and evil Gryffindors. Don't be so narrow-minded."

"How can you defend them?" said James. "How can you? They're evil, you know they are! They're making _my brother _more like his former self!"

"I'd rather die!" shouted Amos. With a silent flick of his wand James flung Frank aside into the trunk of a large tree.

"Then die," he said, his eyes afire with the desire to do what he honestly believed to be right. Another flick and a spell, a curse, was flung toward Amos.

**_So long until next week. Albus will be back next chapter and this random little subplot will be over. Sorry to all those who weren't overly fond of this, but I couldn't see any other way the talk with McGonagall could've gone. I'm also sorry if I sounded a little pissy last chapter. I just didn't like how many people seemed to hate McGonagall for being who she is. Bye!_**


	13. Chapter 13: Sticks and Stones

**_Well, I'm getting a late start on this, so it might be up a day late. We'll see. I didn't get a lot of reviews last chapter :'-(. Oh well. Here's the next chapter._**

The first thing Albus did when he got back from St. Mungo's near the end of March was find a secluded corner of the library and think. Unfortunately, he was so preoccupied with his thinking that he didn't notice his brother coming until it was too late.

"What do you want?" Albus snarled. James sat down across from Albus.

"I think I owe you an apology," he said.

"What, for putting me in a padded cell? You're a little too late for that, brother."

"Look, I believe that you're Voldemort now, Al. You're my little brother; I can't let you deal with this all alone."

"Alone? Who says I'm bloody alone? I have allies, James, and friends," Albus took a deep breath, "_real _friends."

"What, like those bloody Slytherins?" said James.

"Yeah, those bloody Slytherins!" said Albus, jumping up from his chair.

"They're corrupting you, Al. Don't listen to them."

"Like hell."

"Who's corrupting Albus?" said a low voice behind the Slytherin. Albus twisted around and slumped back into his chair in relief.

"Frank, thank Merlin you're here," he said. "What the hell is going on here? How come he suddenly believes me and thinks Slytherins are corrupting me?"

"James is having some issues," said Frank. "He's of very little importance right now."

"Hey!" said James. Frank's eyes flicked to James for a split second then focused back on Albus again.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind, I have much more important things to fill you in on, sensitive things that shouldn't be said in the presence of this," Frank's lip curled, "sniveling specimen of them worst form of humanity." James's mouth dropped open at the frank insult. Albus raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that's that then," he said, standing again and smoothing his flimsy hospital robes. "What's the news?"

"In the chamber," said Frank through clenched teeth. "Merlin's nut-cup, Albus, do you have to shout stuff out for the entire world to hear?"

"Things have gotten worse, haven't they?" said Albus. Frank gave a short, stiff nod as they walked briskly toward the girl's loo and down into the Chamber of Secrets.

"Tell me everything," said Albus at last, leaning against a basilisk rib.

"I have to warn you, this may be something of a monologue," said Frank.

"We have time," said Albus, "and I have to know what the hell's going on." Frank smiled.

"Quite a lot's been going on," he said. "Since you went to the Hospital Wing I've had an enlightening conversation with McGonagall and my portrait, dueled your brother, made up with your brother, gotten thrown into trees by your brother, and been pampered incessantly by house elves."

"What about the envoys?" said Albus.

"Not looking too hot," said Frank. "The house elves are a success, and the centaurs are gaining momentum every day, but we're being watched. We'll have to wait for vacations or something to send any more."

"That might be too late," muttered Albus. "All right, so we're holding together?"

"Naturally. Amos and I had to take over leadership, but we've pulled through. I'm just glad you're back to play Mr. Rebel. I have other things to worry about."

"Like what?" said Albus. "What could possibly be more important than destroying the world as we know it?" Frank shifted uncomfortably.

"My dad," he said at last. "I just don't know how to break the fact that I'm me to him."

"Should be pretty simple for you," said Albus. Frank looked at him like he was crazy. "Oh, come on, Frank. You're Severus Snape, hero of the Battle of Hogwarts and the Second War, youngest Potions master in history, recipient of the not-so-posthumous Order of Merlin, First Class. How'll that be difficult?"

"His boggart," said Frank. Albus froze.

"Oh," he said.

"Yeah," said Frank. "It'd put a bit of a damper on our relationship, wouldn't it, what with me being what he fears most?"

"Frank, you'll get through to him. If anyone can it's you."

"The problem is," said Frank, "I'm not his son anymore. I won't be his son to him. I'll just be the teacher who hated him."

"Then don't tell him," said Albus. Frank glared at his friend.

"I'm not a coward," he snapped. "Besides, that won't do any good. We need to have an adult on our side- a human adult, Albus. Centaurs and house elves don't count."

"You don't have to tell him," said Albus. "We already have Draco. Besides, I've decided to give McGonagall and Co. another try." Frank's mouth dropped open.

"What the- Albus, you'll be taken away again!"

"So what? Frank, this is perfect. If I can convince McGonagall, she'll convince your father and maybe mine, too. You won't have to go through all this. I'll be the only one at risk."

"No," said Frank, "you won't. Look, Al, we need you. Our war needs you. We can't afford to have you throwing yourself away just because you can-"

"I'm now throwing myself away. I- I'm _helping _the cause!"

"All this help will do us no good if you're in the terminal ward. McGonagall doesn't believe you or me, and quite frankly she probably never will."

"SHE HAS TO!" Albus bellowed, before collapsing shakily against a long, white rib-bone. "She has to…" Frank plopped down next to his friend.

"Why?" he said. Albus rocked back and forth.

"She doesn't believe me," he moaned softly. "She doesn't seem to be able to. Everyone- they'll believe her in a heartbeat. I- I need a victory now. I don't care if I'm sent away again. I just… I need someone to believe in me." There was a long silence.

"The Slytherins believe you," said Frank at last. "Draco, the Death Eaters, the centaurs, and the house elves believe you. I- I believe you, too. If that doesn't convince you, nothing will."

"But how will we find more, Frank? No one will believe me now."

"The same people have always believed in you," said Frank, "the dregs of society, as you once said yourself. People like McGonagall already have something to believe in, and that's not a bad thing, necessarily. But we can believe in you because our belief in everything else has been shattered."

"So I'm just the last option left?"

"No, you're the best option available," said Frank. Albus sucked in deep breaths then stood up.

"Come on," he said.

"What are we doing?" said Frank, also standing. Albus smiled.

"We're going to annoy a certain Herbology professor," he said. Frank turned pale, but he still followed Albus. They left the Chamber and walked briskly through the halls. Outside the castle Albus glanced around then dived into a nook in the castle.

"What was that about?" asked Frank.

"Shh!"

"Why are you hiding?" Frank sounded a bit annoyed.

"Look, if we're going to tell your father then we'll need a strategy," said Albus very fast.

"Why? We'll just go up to him and say it."

"That won't go over very well, Frank. Just trust my experience and let me do the talking."

"He's my father!"

"I'm the Dark Lord. I can convince him of the impossible, so I think you should just shut up and let me do my magic."

"Fine," said Frank, sighing, "but if you screw this up I'll kill you."

"Thanks," said Albus, then he popped back out of the nook and continued toward the greenhouses as though nothing had happened. As he entered the crowded Greenhouse 1, Neville Longbottom looked up from the plant he was pruning.

"Ah, Frank, Albus," he said. "What brings you two here?"

"Business," said Albus. Professor Longbottom narrowed his eyes.

"Business?"

"What else would bring me here?"

"Is this about the report on Gillyweed?" said Professor Longbottom. "I'll explain it again tomorrow since so many people seem confused-"

"Professor, did you know Dumbledore?"

"Yeah," said Professor Longbottom, a bit taken aback. "Not well, of course, but well enough."

"Did you know that he has a sick sense of humor?"

"Erm… no, I didn't. I hardly think that's relevant right now-"

"Oh, it is immensely relevant, sir," said Albus. "In fact, it is the reason you have not been informed of this development already."

"Development?" Professor Longbottom sounded very confused and suspicious.

"Dad-" Frank began.

"Shut up, Frank. You agreed to let me do the talking, and I intend to break it to him as I see fit."

"He's my father!"

"Shut up, Severus!" Albus froze. "Oh, shit."

"Severus?" said Professor Longbottom.

"Yeah, Frank's really Snape reborn. Feel free to scream, cry, or sell us out to McGonagall like other people have been known to do when we've revealed this to them."

"Really? He can sell us out?" Frank said.

"Good Merlin, Frank, I was being sarcastic," said Albus.

"Frankie's Snape?" said Professor Longbottom helplessly.

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"I don't believe you."

"Don't, won't, or can't?" said Albus quietly.

"You can't prove it," said Professor Longbottom. "No matter what you say, you can't prove it." Albus threw back the left sleeve of his hospital robes to reveal the Dark Mark burning black against his pale skin. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Frank do the same. Professor Longbottom stumbled backwards in shock.

"This enough for you?" said Albus.

"Impossible," Professor Longbottom whispered. "My son… Frankie can't be…" For a moment the three of them stood there, motionless except for their breathing, then Frank took a step forward.

"Dad-"

"I don't want to hear it." Frank looked as though he'd been slapped. "You can't be my son. You hated me. I- I hate you…" Frank threw himself headlong at his father and embraced him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Thank you," he said. Professor Longbottom's jaw dropped.

"For what?" he said.

"For showing me what a father is," said Frank, then he burst into tears. Professor Longbottom seemed to snap out of his shock and hugged Frank back, rocking his son back and forth.

"It's all fine," he whispered. Albus slowly backed out of the greenhouse, a sad, bitter, slightly envious smile on his lips as he carefully closed to door.


	14. Chapter 14: Sins of the Founder

**_This is so late. Like, a week late. I'm sorry guys, RL totally took over. Why can't my teachers and family just leave me alone to be my antisocial, rather obsessive self? Anyhoo, here's the latest chapter, "Sins of the Founder", that I created basically just to use that name!_**

Albus left Frank and Professor Longbottom to their little father-son bonding session and walked slowly back toward Hogwarts' castle, turning up his coat color against the brisk March breeze. His eyes drilled holes into the air as he willed himself not to cry. So what if he'd never have that kind of relationship with either of his fathers? So what? It wasn't as though it was actually important on the grand scale of things. Albus was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't see the girl coming toward him until it was too late.

"Well, well, well," said Rose, smirking, "if it isn't my favorite little Death Eater."

"Shut up, Rose," said Albus tiredly.

"Nice robes, Potter," said Rose. Albus realized that he was still wearing the robes he'd been given at the hospital.

"Merlin's hat," he muttered, making a mental note to change as soon as he got back to the Slytherin dormitories. "Why are you here, Rose?"

"Perhaps I just fancied a chat with my evil, murdering cousin," she said. Albus snorted.

"Evil, murdering cousin? I have one of those, too." Instantly the Gryffindor's face twisted into something almost gargoyle-like.

"It's not murder, it's justice."

"Who appointed you the judge, jury, and executioner?" Albus shot back.

"If I hadn't done them in, then they'd go bad and murder millions." Albus let out a long sigh that seemed to deflate him. How had his cousin ended up like this? Why couldn't he have been anyone but Voldemort?

_Even if you were not Tom Riddle, she would still be the Dark Lady._ Albus gasped.

"Tom?" he blurted out. Rose grinned.

"Oh, no, this isn't Tommy," she said.

_Quiet, Sorceress. Your voice has no power over us now. _Rose giggled.

"Oh, but you and my friend will have so much fun together," she said. "You'll have plenty of catching up to do, I'm sure."

_I know who your "friend" is, Miss Weasley, and I can assure you that he only means you harm._

"But he's my friend! He understands me! I won't let you be mean to him. I'll kill you myself if I have to."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Albus. "What is going on here?" Rose suddenly giggled again.

"I'll just leave you two to get to know each other," she said. "You'll hate it, Ally, positively loath it. Tootles!" She happily skipped away, no doubt to go plan more murders.

_Infuriating girl, _fumed the voice that had unexpectedly popped into Albus's head.

"I agree," said Albus. "Um, I don't mean to sound rude, but who are you?"

_I, my boy, am Salazar Slytherin. _Albus's mouth hung open rather dumbly.

"Wow," he said at last.

_That's an unusual reaction. Most people run away screaming._

"I can't exactly run away from my own head, and screaming would just make McGonagall shut me up in St. Mungo's again. I really have no choice but to hear you out, don't I?

_Still, thank you. It's nice to meet someone who doesn't immediately judge me by the legends that have been passed off as history._

"Legends? What do you mean?"

_Everything you know about me is a lie, based on truth, but a lie nonetheless. _Slytherin sounded bitter.

"But one of the legends in true. The Chamber of Secrets does exist."

_As I said, it's based on the truth. The other Founders and I created the Chamber and put the basilisk in it as Hogwarts' last line of defense if all else failed. It was nick-named the Chamber of Secrets by some of our more dramatic students._

"So," said Albus, "what's your story? How did you become known as someone so… evil?"

_It is a long story._

"We have time. Do I look like I have anything better to do?" Albus sat down, leaning against the castle, and Slytherin began to tell his story.

_What you have to understand first, _he said, _is that in my days wizards and Muggles were almost at war. Wizards were horribly outnumbered. Godric, Rowena, Helga, and I originally made Hogwarts as a safe place for wizard parents to leave their children until the children were old enough to control their magic better. It quickly evolved into an academy of magic._

_Everything seemed to be going well, but Godric and Helga became obsessed with finding Muggleborns and teaching them. Rowena and I thought that the idea was moronic. Muggleborns had been raised thus far by Muggles, and I especially didn't want to risk the safety of all the children. This… discord ended with us splitting into Houses._

_Now, this could've just ended right there. Refusing to allow Muggleborns into my House would have been enough to make me a villain by your modern standards. But, naturally, there had to be an extra little something to complete my destruction. I had a son with Helga._

"What?" said Albus.

_ Don't act so surprised. You already knew that Rowena had a daughter. Is it so hard to think of me with a son?_

"Yeah, well, you're…"

_Evil?_

"That's not what I was going to say," said Albus defensively.

_Never mind. Not even you can be totally impartial. Anyways, our son. Godric was adamant that he be trained in Helga's House. He'd never quite gotten over the fact that we'd split into four, not that I blame him. I agreed with him under the condition that I be able to teach Augustine how to brew potions. Godric wasn't too happy about that._

_One thing led to another, and Helga stepped in, purely to stop us from dueling. She told Godric that Augustine would be part of _my _House. Godric was… very angry and convinced my son would be twisted and ruined._

_Fifteen years passed before Godric was proven right. I swear I didn't mean for Augustine to end up the way he did. I tried to train him right; I did my best. I… I guess I messed up. I won't deny that it was probably my fault somewhere down the line._

_It started at midnight, the beginning of July 31__st__. It was Helga's turn to patrol. Augustine k- killed her before she could alert us, then he broke into her House and began to kill students at random. One of them managed to sound the alarm before he killed her. Godric, Rowena, and I went at once. When I saw her b- body and all the dead, I… I snapped. I ran after Augustine. In the end we dueled on the Astronomy Tower._

_Eventually Godric and Rowena caught up with us. Augustine saw them and made the whole tower collapse before escaping. When we'd finally dug ourselves out and gotten everything back into order, Godric blamed me for Augustine and said I was no longer fit to be a teacher. Rowena tried to stop him, but I was glad to leave. I'd actually been contemplating leaving for some time, and now… well, I had no reason to stay._

"What happened after you left? Did you find Augustine?" Albus's voice was low; he didn't want to hear the end of the sad story.

_I found him, alright, three years later. He was married and had twins, a boy and a girl. We dueled. He killed me. The end. _Albus bit his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry."

_Don't be. It's over now. I'm with Helga again, Augustine's burning in hell, and I'm not on that infernal "Council of Light." What more could I want?_

"Everything. You're still suffering," said Albus softly. There was a long pause.

_What do you mean?_

"It still hurts, doesn't it? Even having all those good things happen after death can't erase those years of hurt and failure."

_What would you know? _Slytherin's voice was dangerously calm.

"Personal experience," said Albus. "Being a former Dark Lord… isn't fun."

_I'm not here for pity. This is business, nothing else._

"What business?"

_The only sort these days: war business._

"Of course," said Albus, rolling his eyes. "Tom said you knew who Rose's 'friend' is."

_I only suspected before. I know now._

"Who is he?"

_I've already told you quite a lot about him._

"Augustine? I thought you said he was in hell."

_Not Augustine, _said Slytherin grimly, _Godric._

"Shit."

_Agreed._

**_Dum, dum, dum. The plot thickens. Now you can see why I called this one "Sins of the Founder." Next week: Tom and a not-so-fun beginning to Easter vacation. Reviews mean my huggles!_**


	15. Chapter 15: Unforgivable

**_Well, I'm back. This might be a little late again. I don't know what else to say (LOL), so here it is._**

That night, the night before he'd go home for the Easter break, Albus had a dream.

"Hello, Tom," he said. His friend turned toward him, blurred around the edges.

"Hey, Albs," said Tom. "Caught any Gryffindors lately?" Albus refused to be amused.

"Is Slytherin serious?" he said. "Is Gryffindor helping Rose?"

"If Sally's sure, I won't dispute it," said Tom. "But, still, that's not your concern right now. How's Rose?"

"Still at large. I don't even know who's in her army."

"Then you'll just have to treat anyone likely to join her as if they already had," said Tom, grimacing a little.

"What? That's… that's not like you, Tom." Tom groaned as though in pain, and Albus stopped. "This is what you meant when you told me not to trust you, isn't it?" Tom nodded.

"Everything I tell you is a lie," he said. "Dumbledork-"

"Don't tell me. This is his fault, isn't it?"

"If not his fault, his doing. I have no existence outside his now. Strictly speaking, I am that son of a bitch."

"Oh, no."

"Yeah. Don't-" Tom cut himself off with a ragged cry of pain and fell to the ground. "Don't listen to me," he finished in a whisper. Tom was growing fuzzier, more indistinct.

"What's happening to you?" murmured Albus, kneeling down beside Tom. Tom gave Albus a pained smile.

"I said something he didn't agree with. Dumbly gets very sensitive about people disagreeing with him, even people that don't exist. So he punishes me. He threatens to kill me again."

"That's wrong. That's just… wrong."

"I'd agree with you, but who knows what he'd do. Anyways, for what he sent me here for…"

"He sent you here."

"Of course. Even if he didn't do this, he's not above using this lovely new situation."

"What is it?"

"Don't listen to me right now. This is what Dumbly wants, not me." Tom involuntarily spasmed. "Fine, fine. I'll tell him. Albus, t- tell your father everything." Tom's eyes pleaded for Albus to tell him that Harry would never know.

"Tom," said Albus, "I can't not tell my father. I hope you can understand." Tom shook his head sadly, then the dream faded away and Albus woke up. For a few minutes he just lay there, sickened by how much it had hurt Tom to disobey Dumbledore. He hated himself for putting Tom through that. He hated himself for agreeing with Dumbledore for once.

Albus quickly dressed and went down to the Great Hall to wait in line with the rest of the students who were going home for Easter. After being checked and receiving his bags, Albus stood with Frank to wwait for the carriages. The sight of the thestrals brought an unexpected rush of sadness. He hadn't thought about Scorpius since the funeral.

Albus and Frank were tense the whole trip back to London. Rose was on the train, and they would have to be ready in case she decided to start killing more Slytherins. But she didn't, so Albus and Frank exited the train without incident and set about looking for Albus's parents. Frank would be spending the break at Grimmauld Place. Before they could find Albus's family they saw a green flash of light through the thick steam.

There was no question as to what it was. Albus could feel the Dark magic, could almost see the explosion of evil that came from the unforgiveable curse. Avada Kedavera.

Albus and Frank ran in the direction they'd seen the flash come from. They wove through the disorderly chaos that surrounded the attack, only one thing on their minds. Who had been killed? Albus slipped between two grown-ups then stopped short. His father was bending down, taking a pulse, and then shaking his head. Sprawled on the ground, undoubtedly dead, was Margo Benedict. Albus could feel the tears threatening to fall.

"Come on," he muttered to Frank. He began to walk away from the body, then run. He couldn't let anyone see him like this, especially his father. He couldn't crack over some girl he barely knew.

_It's all right, _said Slytherin. _You can cry. No one will blame you. _Albus shook his head. _You shouldn't keep it inside. Cry. _

"Not here," said Albus, blinking rapidly. "Maybe later." He and Frank exited the platform.

"Where's the car?" said Frank. Albus shrugged and looked around for the red station wagon. He spotted it down the street and raised an eyebrow. Curled up next to it was Lesley McBrian. He walked up to the older girl and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey," he said. Lesley lifted her tear-streaked face to look at him. "Are you okay?"

"I- I don't know," she said. Albus shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. Then, to his surprise, Frank sat down next to Lesley and put his arm around her. At this her lips quivered and and she buried her head in Frank's jumper, sobbing. Frank squeezed her gently.

"Don't cry," he said, more gentle than Albus had ever seen him. "I know it hurts bad. Just… It'll get better. It's not the end of the world, death. It's the beginning."

"The beginning of what?" said Lesley, her voice slightly muffled.

"Merlin, everything," said Frank, smiling a little. "Up there, you get to meet everyone from Merlin to Fat Albert. You can discuss philosophy with Socrates or play rugby with Tolkien. But the best part," Frank's voice became low, "and the worst is that you can still see everyone down here. They can't see you, of course, but you can see. Sometimes you want to slap them, but most of the time they make the right decisions and mistakes. Your faith in humanity is restored, in a weird way." Lesley tried to give him a watery smile, but it didn't quite work.

"Margo always believed in everyone," she said.

"Well, she'll like the afterlife, then. Watching the living blundering around like idiots is one of the best forms of entertainment I know of." Lesley giggled.

"I think Margo'll like that," she said, then she looked up at Albus. "What did you like most about heaven?"

"Oh, I went to hell," said Albus.

"Purgatory," Frank corrected. Albus shot him a confused look.

"Purgatory?" Frank nodded.

"Hell's reserved for the really bad people- the ones who know what they did, but won't repent or even feel remorse. The Council of Light will find any excuse to not send someone to hell. Although," Frank tacked on almost as an afterthought, "the majority wanted _you _in hell. It was only because of Dumbledore and me that you ever got into purgatory."

"Well, thanks, Frank," said Albus.

"Aren't you going to thank Dumbledore?" said Lesley.

"Nah," said Albus, "he's a jerkwad." Frank snorted and Lesley genuinely smiled. A moment later she turned sullen again.

"What's going to happen to me now?" she said.

"What were you going to do before Margo was killed?" said Albus. Lesley stiffened and Frank shot Albus a glare.

"I- I was going to spend break with Margo's family, but n- now I don't know," Lesley said.

"Why did you come here, of all places?"

"I- I don't know. I mean, I knew this was your dad's car, so I just… I trusted you." Albus massaged his temples.

"Do you have any suggestions, Frank?" he grumbled. "My brain's shot."

"Why don't we simply let her stay at your place?" said Frank, a protective arm still around Lesley. Albus shot Frank an exasperated look.

_The solution makes sense, you must admit. _

"But what about Margo's parents? What about my _father_? There are a million ways this could go wrong and neither of you are even thinking-"

"Your dad'll say yes if we ask him the right way," said Frank confidently.

"No, he won't." Frank raised an eyebrow. "Fine, maybe he will. But you can't just walk up to Margo's parent's and –" Frank stood up and walked toward the entrance to the platform, where Margo's parents and Albus's father had just appeared.

"Apparently I can," called Frank over his shoulder. Albus let out a huffy, frustrated breath.

"He's impossible," he muttered to himself.

_He's only doing what he believes is best. I applaud him, personally. _

"You're impossible, too."

"Excuse me?" said Lesley. Albus almost jumped.

"Not you," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh," said Lesley, then she shivered. Albus turned and really looked at her for the first time. She looked so… so small, so weak, so young, defenseless sitting there curled in a ball against his family's car. Albus felt… torn. He wanted to protect her, but in this… in this war protection would do her no good.

Merlin, what was the use of it all? He couldn't protect her; no one could be protected. So, what now, a life spent shattering innocence? Albus was thankfully pulled out of these morbid thoughts by his father and Frank walking towards them. Frank had a very smug expression on his face.

"I-" Frank began.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Albus muttered. "Even Voldy was wrong sometimes." Albus's father looked at him weirdly, but didn't comment on the comment. Instead he turned to Lesley, his jaw tightening a little.

"So you're Lesley?" he said. Lesley nodded. "Albus's friend in Slytherin?"

"Acquaintance," she said. "Margo and I were the ones who-" Albus shot a panicked look at her. "- who talked to him first. Well, after Douglas, of course, but Douglas doesn't count." Albus and Frank both visibly relaxed, causing Albus's father to glance at them again.

_You two are deplorable actors. _Albus rolled his eyes. What was it with voices? Why did they pop into your head at the most awkward moments?

"Well, er, shall we be off?" said Frank with false cheeriness. Lesley giggled a little.

"Um, sure," said Albus's father, probably wondering what he had missed. The three kids hopped into the back of the station wagon, and Albus's father turned the ignition key. They slowly pulled away from King's Cross.

Albus glanced at Lesley, who was squished in between him and Frank. Tear tracks were still drying on her pale face. Albus felt a wave of anger rise up in him. He couldn't understand why Rose would kill Margo, of all people. Whatever her twisted plan and reasoning, Albus knew that Margo was an innocent. This… this was unforgivable.

**_Well, that got very dark, very fast. I honestly didn't expect anyone to get killed. Oh, well. Margo wanted to die, and Rose wanted to kill someone. It was a good way to go. Review! (If you haven't been scared off by my sporadic updates!) _**


	16. Chapter 16: Many (Many) Meetings

_**This will almost certainly be very late. So, this is the chapter where I pick up some long-neglected plot threads and try to bring something resembling story into this. And fail. :) I hope you enjoy anyways.**_

Their drive to Grimmald Place was filled with tension, though Albus's father and Frank obviously tried to keep the conversation going. Nevertheless, Albus was glad when they finally pulled up the Number 12. He and his father hopped out immediately, glad to be free of the stuffy car, while Frank and Lesley got out more slowly. Noticing this, Albus smirked.

"You've got yourself a girlfriend, Sevvie," he whispered to Frank. Frank turned pink.

"Do not!" he said, far louder than was necessary. Albus winked at Lesley and, no doubt guessing the content of their whispers, she giggled.

"Don't you think I'm kind of old for you, Frank?" she said teasingly.

"Don't _you_ think I'm kind of old for _her_?" said Frank to Albus, casting a sidelong glance at the 13-year-old girl beside him. Albus could see that Lesley was a little confused.

"He's actually Snape," he said. "Don't tell my father."

"Oh," she said, sounding a little disappointed.

"Look, Lesley, you're physically older than me, so it isn't actually that bad." Albus rolled his eyes.

"Says the guy who would see my dead grand mum in the Mirror of Erised if he looked." Frank's eyes widened.

"Merlin's loo," he breathed.

"What?" said Albus.

"I- I've got to get out of here."

"Come on, guys- oh, and gal," called Albus's father from far ahead. Frank looked like a small animal caught in a smaller trap.

"I- I can't…"

"Yes, you can." Albus pulled his friend toward the front door. "What is this about, Frank?" Frank just dug in his heels and shook his head frantically. Muttering swear words under his breath, Albus dragged Frank up the steps and into the darkened hallway.

"Al, are you crazy?" said Frank.

"_Al!_" a voice shouted, and Lily raced up the hallway and tackled Albus head-on in a hug.

"Whoa, Lils," said Albus, laughing, "you're way too old to do that. I almost cranked my head open." Lily

"Nothing's happened to Frank," said Albus forcefully. "Frank, snap out of it. You're scaring Lily."

"Al… she… Lily…"

"Get ahold of yourself!" yelled Albus. He broke away from his friend's gaze, then said, in an almost calm voice, "Frank, she isn't who you think she is."

"What's going on, Al?" Lily said. Frank flinched.

"Not now, Lils," said Albus quickly. "Frank, go." Frank scurried up the stairs in the direction of Albus's room. Albus turned around to Lesley, who had been watching this whole scene with wide-eyed fear and fascination. "Can you go after him?" Lesley nodded.

"Is he always like this?"

"Of course not," said Albus. "He just freaked out a little about my sister." Lesley nodded again and ran up after Frank.

"What was that?" said Lily, tugging at Albus's robe.

"Nothing," said Albus, "just a normal occurrence, I hope."

thisisalineawhatalineawhatal ineohaline

Late that night Albus woke to see Frank standing over him. Frank was fully dressed, and there was a strange gleam in his eye.

"Get these on," he said, tossing a wad of fabric in Albus's face. Albus shook them out.

"Dress robes?" he said. In response Frank held up a letter.

"We've been summoned," he said.

"In dress robes?" Frank sighed.

"They're for negotiations, idiot, with the goblins."

"Oh." Albus began to change into the robes. "Where are we going?"

"Malfoy Manor by Floo. It's the best I could come up with on such short notice." Albus nodded.

"Let's go," he said. Frank looked momentarily surprised, but quickly fell into step behind Albus. The two boys snuck down to the kitchen, where, with a few mumbled phrases, Frank quickly got a fire started. Then, each silently taking a pinch of the powder from a ceramic pot, the boys disappeared up the chimney.

First Albus, then Frank, tumbled out of an ordinate marble fireplace. Straightening up and brushing off his robes, Albus glanced around. All in all, Malfoy Manor hadn't changed much in the 19 years since he had last been there, though he noticed that some of the Dark artifacts that had before been tastefully displayed had mysteriously vanished.

"Ah, you're here, my Lord," said Malfoy. "And this is…"

"Severus Snape," said Frank. Malfoy's eyes widened momentarily, but his expression was soon again impassive.

"Very well," he said. "The goblin king is waiting in the dining room." Albus nodded.

"Come on then," he said. Malfoy stepped in front of the door.

"The king specifically requested to see you alone, my Lord. It wasn't possible to change his mind." Albus turned a bit pale, but resolutely nodded. Malfoy stepped away from the door, and Albus strode through into the dining room. At the far end of the long table sat a wizened old goblin dressed in full armor, an ordinate scepter across his knees.

"Come closer," said the king. Albus heard the door close behind him and its lock click. Albus walked to a seat at the opposite end of the table from the goblin.

"Why have you called negotiations?" said Albus.

"Is it not obvious?" said the king. "I have come to request an alliance." Albus's eyebrow rose.

"Excuse me for asking so bluntly, but what is your name? I never go into negotiations without a name." The goblin's mouth broke into a rotten-toothed grin.

"Names are a dangerous thing, laddie. You should know that better than most." When Albus didn't respond, the king's smile faded. "If you must know, I am King Griphook."

"You were the one who helped Harry Potter steal my horcrux." Albus's voice held no anger. Griphook blinked once, slowly.

"Yes," he said as though fully expecting a curse in his face.

"Why, then, do you come to me now?"

"I work for the good of my people, Lord Voldemort," said Griphook. "The Ministry is worse to us than ever before- worse even than you in the time of chaos. I was told by the centaur Mordreck that you have promised them equality. I want this for my people, and I am willing to risk anything to get it." Albus stared into the goblin's nearly black eyes and took his wand from his robes. Griphook's long fingers curled around the arms of his chair, but his expression didn't change. Albus set the wand on the table. It rolled down to Griphook, who glared at it suspiciously.

"Is this what you want?" said Albus softly. "A wand?" Griphook's gaze shifted up toward Albus.

"It is every goblin's desire," he said, "but it cannot be given to us."

"Pick it up." Griphook's fingers shot out, as though the chance to touch the wand would suddenly be taken away from him. He twirled it slowly in his hands, carefully studying it from every angle. Then, reluctantly, he rolled it back to Albus.

"It does not belong to me," he said.

"Then what do you want?"

"What we all do. Equal rights. A wand of my own. Gringotts restored to its former glory."

"All reasonable requests," said Albus. "Is there anything else?" Griphook's eyes narrowed.

"What are you planning?" he hissed. Albus's eyebrows scrunched together.

"Why are you asking me that? I'm agreeing to grant your requests."

"Exactly," said Griphook, his dark eyes feverishly searching Albus's face. "You are a wizard. What would you gain from this? Nothing. This is all a trick, a ploy of some sort…"

"You were the one to initiate these negotiations. I would think that this would be how you would want this to go."

"It is going too smoothly. You- you agreed. You are giving up your power, but don't think I don't see through your façade-"

"Power?" said Albus, standing. "What power do I have? I am a _child_."

"You are a human. Your species is your power." Griphook, too, was standing now angrily. "You thought you had me duped. You were almost right. I almost believed you lies, but I'm not so naive as that." Albus sighed and sat back down.

"And what, exactly, would I stand to gain by duping you?"

"My loyalty! Goblin treasures! There are a million things you could be aiming for, but you want something!"

"I do want something," said Albus softly.

"I knew it! You're-"

"I do want something from you," said Albus, a bit louder. "I don't want your loyalty or your treasure. I just want your help. I _need _your help."

"What help could a human- a wizard- need from a goblin?"

"Any help you'd be willing to give," said Albus. "I trust that you've heard of our adversary from the centaurs." Griphook stiffened.

"I admit that I have doubts-"

"You'd be stupid not to, but now our need is dire. Only today a Slytherin was murdered on Platform Nine and Three-quarters, a third year by the name of Margo Benedict. This brings the Dark Lady's body count up to three, and she plans a full-scale genocide of anyone she considers Dark."

"Why is this the goblins' concern?"

"You were the one who called me here. She is on the side of the Ministry."

"So it is beneficial for both of us," Griphook muttered darkly. With his scepter he carved a long gash in the mahogany tabletop. "Give me a promise."

"A promise of what?"

"A promise that we won't be destroyed by this! If we lose, my people will be worse off than they are now. If we win…"

"I will do my best to grant your requests," Albus supplied. Griphook looked up.

"I will join you," he said. "As for my people, I will not force them, but they will follow me."

"Good," said Albus, getting up from his seat and taking his leave. A tear escaped Griphook's eye and slid down his cheek as the door closed behind Lord Voldemort.

_**Well, there it is. Next chapter: Harry finds out. Finally. Yeah, I know, it took me long enough, didn't it? Reviews= imaginary chocolate from my secret stash!**_


	17. Chapter 17: Gallows

**_Yes, I'm a week late again. Really, I should start just saying I'll update every two weeks instead of every week. Oh well. Here's the chapter you've all been waiting for since I put it in the stupid summery! Oh, and if you can find a quote from my favorite TV show in this, you are awesome and will get to name an OC in the coming chapters. Just make sure your PMing is enabled, and I'll contact you if you guess it right._**

Albus and Frank tumbled out of the fireplace at 12 Grimmald Place. Albus groan and propped himself up on his elbows.

"Well, that was tedious…" His words were cut off by a gulp. Standing in front of him was a very tired, very angry Harry Potter.

"_What _are you two up to?" he said.

"Nothing," said Frank. "You?" The next moment Frank and Albus had been hauled up and plopped into chairs. Sighing, Albus's father pulled out a chair for himself and collapsed into it.

"Explain," he snapped through clenched teeth. Frank looked away from the Auror's gaze uncomfortably. "Al?"

"We were just visiting a friend," said Albus.

"At three in the morning?"

"Really, you're daft. What other time would we make a social call?" said Frank.

"Shut up, Frank. You're not helping."

"Stop it, you two. I'm not in the mood for this. Now, tell the truth!" Albus turned to his father.

"We went to a friend's house," he said.

"We've established that," said Albus's father, massaging his temples. "Who is this friend?" Albus shrugged, concentrating on a fascinating freckle near the base of his thumb. "A question deserves an answer, Al."

"He isn't anyone you'd know," lied Albus. "Honestly, Dad, why should you care?" A muscle in his father's jaw tightened.

"It's in the job description, caring, seeing as I'm your dad." Albus rolled his eyes, but Frank just looked thoughtful.

"Strictly speaking, that isn't true, Mr. Potter," he said.

"What are you talking about?" said Albus's father, sitting up straight in his chair.

"In reality-"

"Frank-"

"-your claim to being his father-"

"Frank-"

"-is entirely false."

"SHUT UP!" Albus bellowed. Frank nearly toppled his chair over.

"Fine, fine. Just calm down, Al." Albus's father looked first at Frank, then at Albus.

"I'm giving you one chance to explain what's going on here, Albus," he growled.

"Dad, honestly-"

"Albus." Albus pressed against the back of his chair, pinned by his father's steady glare like a beetle to a card. He was trapped.

"Frank, leave," he whispered.

"Al-" Frank was cut off by a pleading look from Albus.

"Leave."

"Fine." Frank's chair scraped softly against the floorboards as he got up and left. Gulping, Albuss tured his full attention back to his father.

"Explain," said Albus's father. Albus closed his eyes.

"What would you like me to explain first?"

"Why you are making social calls at three in the morning, for one." Albus took a deep, shuddering breath.

"It wasn't a social call," he said.

"I'd guessed as much."

"It was business."

"Business?"

"Yes, war business." Albus could hear his father sigh. He opened his eyes to see a concerned but slightly exasperated expression gracing his father's face.

"Not this again. Albus, we've gone through this before. Leave the Dark Wizard catching to me."

"You've got it all wrong," Albus snapped.

"What else would war business be, especially with you?" Albus's next words were blatantly sarcastic.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's getting Slytherin house ready for an attack on it by a prejudiced, bigoted maniac? Maybe it's mobalizing different magical species to rally against the laws you helped write? Maybe it's trying to get used to being a _bloody Dark Lord_?" Albus's father reeled backwards, visibly stunned.

"Albus, what the hell…" He shook his head like a dog trying to clear its ears of water. "Albus, what is this?"

"The truth," Albus replied. "It's the truth I told James, but he betrayed me and is now trying to protect me from my allies. It's the truth I told McGonagall, but she's too hard-headed and set in her ways to consider the possibility that it is the truth. Now I have to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Albus's father's lips were white and barely moved. Albus looked up, trying to catch his father's eyes, but the older man avoided his gaze. Albus's eyes shifted downward, and he ran a hand through his hair.

"Let me tell you a story Potter," he said softly. "There once was a boy. Lonely, abused by bullies, neglected by his caretakers. He clung to the hope that he was special, somehow different from the masses that made his life hell. He grew and became a monster. He chose wrongly many times. But another boy, one not so different from himself, told him to try for some remorse. In his last moments he did, and that made all the difference."

"What are you talking about?" Albus closed his eyes again. He didn't want to see the fallout.

""You brought me a second chance, Potter. I- I need to thank you for that. But, even if you choose to hate me, I need your help. There are good people whose lives are at risk because of me."

"Because of you," Albus's father growled. An arm roughly pinned Albus down, tipping his chair back on two legs. The end of a wand dug into his chest, burning a hole through his disheveled dress robes.

"Dad, I- I can explain-"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Albus flinched back as though he had been slapped.

"It's not what you think it is-"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Flecks of spit splattered Albus's face.

"Just give me a chance to-"

"A chance? A CHANCE?" Despite all his efforts, Albus felt a few tears escape and roll down his cheeks. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON?" Albus shook his head helplessly.

"I'm- I'm still Albus, Dad. I'm still your son-"

"Don't lie to me." Albus's breath caught in his throat. His father's voice was cold and calm. Deadly.

"What makes you think I'm lying?" Albus winced as his father's wand burned his chest.

"You've come back," said Albus's father. "I don't know how, but you've returned." Albus nodded dumbly. Surely it couldn't be this easy. "Why wasn't once enough for you?"

"I don't know what you-"

"Don't give me that rubbish!" The wand dug in harder. Albus could smell his own burning flesh. "I don't know what you're playing at. I don't know what you want, and I don't give a damn." His father's breathing was fast and harsh. "Get out of my son."

"I don't-"

"You bastard." Albus's chair dropped back onto four legs with a crash, and Albus's eyes flew open with the sudden noise. His father turned so that his back was facing Albus. "Is this what you want? Is this your- your plot?"

"What are you-"

"Don't play dumb! This is about destroying me, it always is. Fine. You win. Kill me. Just- Just get out of my son when you've finished."

"Killing you was not my intention." Albus's father whirled around.

"Then what is it? What do you want from me?"

"Your help, and only your help. Whatever you might think on the contrary, I am your son. I am also Lord Voldemort."

"No."

"Yes! A new Dark Lady has risen. She wants to kill every Slytherin, and it's my fault she does. It's- It's my fault. So go on. Hate me. Attack me. Torture me-"

"You deserve it."

"I agree," said Albus, bowing his head. "I agree, but this isn't a question of what I deserve. This is about them and what they deserve."

"After all you've done, you have the nerve to-" His father was shaking. "Why should I trust you?"

"They're children, Dad! Just like James or Lily or- or Margo! They should be able to- We have to-"

"No."

"How can you be so heartless?" Albus's father's head shot up.

"I don't know what the hell you're playing at."

"You said that already."

"You are _possessing _my _son_!"

"Is that really what you're choosing to believe?" The two men glared at each other. "I really don't see why I was so interested in you."

"What?" Albus's father was confused by the abrupt change of topic.

"You're not a great wizard," said Albus scathingly. "You're just as cynical and narrow-minded as the rest of them."

"What're you-"

"Shut up! Merlin, Dad, even if you can't believe me, at least help me! Help them!"

"Help you how?"

"Stop the Dark Lady!"

"There is no Dark Lady!" Suddenly the fire flared. Albus stumbled backward and shielded his eyes as a girl, a monster, stepped out of the fireplace.

"Uncle Harry!" Rose squealed, sounding for all the world like the innocent eleven-year-old she wasn't.

"Rose! What are you doing here?" said Albus's father, forcing a smile.

"That is a very good question," Albus muttered. Rose turned from one to the other, an over exaggerated innocence on her face.

"Have- Have you been… arguing?" Albus could've sworn he heard a hint of predatory pleasure in her voice.

"No, just discussing a couple of things," said Albus.

"Oh," she said. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all," said Albus coldly. Rose shot him a dangerous smile.

"Then I hope you won't mind, Uncle Harry, if I ask you to leave the room." Albus's father blinked.

"That," said Albus, "is an excellent idea. Goodbye."

"All right, Albus," said his father, "but we will continue this later." Albus nodded as his father left the room, half of him glad that his father had taken the hint and half of him wishing that he had the great Harry Potter watching his back. When the door had closed, Rose spoke.

"Fancy finding you here at this time of night, Potter," she said.

"I agree that it's rather irregular, though I could question why you're here in the first place."

"A plan which is, unfortunately, no longer in effect." Albus's breath caught in his throat.

"And what was this plan?" he managed to choke out.

"Oh, nothing you have to worry about," said Rose, waving her hand airily. "Just the usual."

"Death? Destruction?" Rose glared at Albus.

"Are you proud of killing all those innocent people?" she said.

"Are _you _proud of doing the same?"

"I am ensuring that no more innocents suffer because of you and your House."

_If you are so sure of your rightness, _said Slytherin suddenly, _then ask Godric to tell you his story. _Rose's face, before almost pleasant, twisted into an ugly, gargoyle-like mess.

"You're not worthy to lick owl droppings off his boots, you snake!" she shrieked. Albus stumbled backwards. "Why, he has told me all about you, how you refused to allow Muggleborns into Hogwarts and twisted your own son to destroy them when he and the others resisted your prejudice!" For a long time there was silence.

_So this is what you have come to, my old friend, _said Slytherin bitterly.

"He won't talk to you, scum. He only speaks to me."

"Rose," said Albus, "how can you believe Gryffindor?"

"How can you believe your snake, cousin? Everyone knows that he's evil and that my Godric is good. That's just… the way things are and have always been."

"Well, I guess I just don't like it the way it is," said Albus.

"All rebellions are doomed to fail. Things are best the way they are."

"All rebellions may be doomed," said Albus, "but this isn't a rebellion. This is a revolution."

**_Well, there we are. Remember to review and tell me what show and episode the quote in this is from. Next chapter: Warning Systems._**


	18. Chapter 18: Warning System

**_Nobody even bothered to guess. :( No fair! Whatever, I'll tell you anyways. The quote was "That was tedious…" from the _****Sherlock ****_episode "The Hounds of Baskerville." I am more than a little obsessed with that show, and I show it by quoting it in every conversation, even if most people don't know it. Any Cumberbabes out there reading this? Mmm, cheekbones. LOL!_**

"Frank!" Albus yelled as soon as Rose had disapperated. Frank raced into the room, Lesley and Albus's father trailing behind him.

"Albus, what is this about?" said his father. "Where's Rose?" Frank turned pale.

"Rose was _here_?" he said.

"Yeah," said Albus. "There's no time to explain. We have to act quickly."

"What was she planning?"

"She said that she had a plan, but my father and I being in here botched it. My guess is that she was about to go after Lesley." Lesley made a choked, half-sobbing noise. "Don't worry; I doubt she'll come back here again. Unfortunately-"

"This looks like her big push," said Lesley softly. "What do we need to do?" Albus ran a hand through his hair.

"We need to warn the Slytherins," he said decidedly. "Lesley, Frank, can I count on your help?" Both of them nodded. "Good. Now, all I need you to do is-"

"Will someone tell me what the Merlin is going on?" said Albus's father. Everyone ignored.

"Frank, I need you to go to the Gryffindors. See if you can convince any of them. James might help you, or he might not." Frank rolled his eyes as he took a pinch of Floo Powder.

"Who knows where that guy stands," he said. Frank stepped into the fireplace. "The Gryffindor common room!" With a whoosh and a burst of green flames he was gone.

"Most of the Gryffindors won't be in the castle," said Lesley. Albus sighed.

"It might be easier to convince them when they aren't covering each other's ears," he said. For a moment he seemed old and wearied, but Albus quickly straightened and pulled his business-like air back around himself.

"What should I do?" said Lesley. Albus checked his watch.

"It's almost five. If you hurry, you'll be able to write a letter in time for the _Morning Prophet._"

"What should I tell them?"

"Just the truth," said Albus. "Don't leave anything out. Our actions and her own should speak for themselves."

"Right," said Lesley, bounding out of the room. Albus turned to his father.

"Dad, take care of her."

"But-" Albus silenced him with a glare.

"I don't care if you believe me or not. I told you before, this is not about me and you."

"Albus-"

"Shut up and protect her."

"The letter won't work." Albus stared at his father. "I'm not saying I believe you."

"I know that," said Albus. "I know all of that. But we have to do something to try to get the Ministry on our side. If Rose gets them…" Albus sighed. "Quite honestly, it's more of a when. Why would the Ministry listen to Slytherins?" For a moment Albus's father looked as though he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth and them he closed it again. Slowly, he nodded. Albus's father whirled around and walked quickly out of the room after Lesley, When he was sure his father was gone, Albus collapsed into a kitchen chair.

_What may I do? _Albus jumped.

"Slytherin!" he said. "I'd almost forgotten you were up there."

_You may find me less intrusive than Tom was. I do, after all, have a life._

"No, you have a death."

_I will repeat my question. What may I do? _

"You want to help?"

_Don't be daft. My House is being threatened._

"True. Let me think a second." Albus chewed on his bottom lip as he stared into the fire. Suddenly he smiled.

_You have an idea. _Slytherin didn't sound very enthused.

"Yes, I do. You know the Council of Light, right?"

_I am well acquainted with their infuriating members, yes. _

"You're going to convince them of our cause." For a moment Slytherin was silent.

_You are an idiot. _he said at last.

"The more people on our side the better, right?" Slytherin let out a loud, huffy sigh.

_What part of evil Mudblood hater who is generally regarded as starting the House every wizard who's ever gone bad has come from do you not understand?_

"You're the only one who can do this. Just… trust me."

_It won't work. _

"Maybe it won't, but we can't let that stop us from trying." Albus drew his arms around himself. "We can't let fear stop us."

_And what is your fear?_

"Death," said Albus quietly, "death and being forgotten. If I'm forgotten, if we're all forgotten… what'll be left to prove we ever existed in the first place."

_Your soul, perhaps? _

"My soul'll be going straight to Hell. I have to leave a mark here, before I'm unable to do anything at all."

_I will speak to the Council of Light._

"Thank you," said Albus.

_I doubt that we will succeed._

"I'm not asking you to succeed; I'm asking you to try."

_In the event that we are killed-_

"There'll be plenty of time for cheesy stuff in Hell. Go on, Slytherin."

_Of course. _Gently, the reassuring presence at the back of Albus's consciousness disconnected itself and disappeared, leaving Albus feeling more alone than ever. Sighing and silently praying that he was doing the right thing, Albus pulled his left sleeve up to his elbow. He considered the black brand on his forearm a moment.

"You've been used for evil so long," Albus whispered to the mark, "but even you can't be all bad. You'll be saving lives this time, I promise." Closing his eyes, he pressed down on the skull.

There were a number of loud cracks. Albus opened his eyes to see almost fifty Death Eaters standing around him in a large circle. Albus stood and took in the different, old, familiar faces. These were faces that had hilled, that he had told to kill innocents. There was a reason why he had hesitated.

"I'm sure that you're all very curious as to why I have called you here." There were a few nods around the circle. "We have been threatened. This is not a perfect solution, but I need about half of you to alert different allies and potential allies of ours. Accept anyone. This is no time to be bigoted and choosey." A shiver ran through the assembled Death Eaters.

"My Lord-" one said. Albus swung around, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the Death Eater.

"Shed your mask, Lucius," he hissed. Trembling from head to foot, the mask was pulled away and the pale face and greying hair of Lucius Malfoy poked out from under the dark hood.

"My Lord, when you say to accept anyone-"

"Why I say anyone, I do indeed mean everyone."

"My Lord, we must have standards…"

"My dear Lucius, are you disagreeing with me?"

"No! I am only saying-"

"You are saying that we should risk the lives of innocent children unlucky enough to be sorted into Slytherin for the sake of misplaced prejudice." Albus's voice was low, calm, and positively lethal. "Our enemy despises your prejudice against Muggle-borns, and I quite frankly find it childish. Such pettiness does not become a man of your supposed status, Lucius."

"My Lord-"

"If you or anyone else has a problem with allowing anyone to join our cause, I suggest that you leave. If you choose to go, there will be no bad blood between us, but know that you will have the blood of every man, woman, and child- human or otherwise- who dies because of your stupidity on your hands. Is this clear?" There was a chorus of affirmatives. "Good. Nott, you're in charge of the half that will seek out allies."

"And what of the rest of us, my Lord?" said a man. Albus turned to face him.

"Goyle, you will be leading the half in charge of warning the current Slytherins. Some might be at Hogwarts, but most will be at their homes with their families. I don't care how you do it, just warn them and quickly. I don't know how long we have until Rose will strike."

"It will be done, my Lord," said Goyle, bowing. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, the Death Eaters began to leave. Soon Albus and Draco Malfoy were the only ones left.

"It is beginning, isn't it?" said Malfoy. Albus nodded distractedly. "If you don't mind my audacity, my Lord, may I ask you a question?"

"You are free to speak," said Albus, only just realizing how bone-tired he was.

"My Lord, what are you going to do while we warn the Slytherins and collect allies?" Albus stood and walked toward the fire, taking a pinch of powder on his way.

"I'm going to see an old friend," he said, throwing the powder down and stepping into the fireplace. "Borgin and Burkes!" With a roar of flames he was gone.

**_Done! Review, please!_**


	19. Chapter 19: Deals and Devils

**_Here I am once again! This time actually on time, too! I'm overusing exclamation points!_**

The first thing that happened when Albus had arrived at Borgin and Burke's was that he found a lit wand shoved in his face.

"Who the Merlin are you?" shouted the one holding the wand. "What're you doing here?"

"Hold up," said Albus. "I'm a client. My name is Lord Voldemort." The wand moved away from his face, revealing an old, toothless man whose white hair looked as though he'd stuck his finger in an electrical socket.

"You're You-Know-Who, you say?" he said, grinning. "Now there's one you don't hear every day."

"Mr. Borgin, you may know me better as Tom Riddle," said Albus softly, a little uncomfortable with stealing his friend's name. Borgin's face transformed into shock.

"Tommy? Little Tommy, who was always able to get me such nice artifacts? Surely it can't be!" His face split into a wide, surprisingly genuine smile. "Why, sit down, my boy, sit down! You'll have to excuse me not knowing you at once. My eyes aren't what they used to be, I'm afraid. Now, I'll just send for a cuppa. Malcolm! Where is that boy? MALCOLM!" A dirty little scamp scurried into the room.

"What is it, Mr. Borgin?" he said eagerly.

"Get the kettle on, Mal. We've got a guest here." Malcolm nodded and almost raced out of the room to the back of the shop. "And don't you dare forget the crumpets, boy!"

"Crumpets, yessir!" Mr. Borgin chuckled.

"Pureblood or halfblood, Mr. Borgin?" said Albus.

"Squib," said Mr. Borgin defensively, "and a damn fine one at that." Albus smiled softly.

"It seems that you've changed, Mr. Borgin, and mostly for the better, I hope." Mr. Borgin relaxed.

"Call me Ralph, Tommy, just Ralph will do. You're not entirely the same yourself, now that I think about it. Shorter, for one thing." Albus grinned.

"Trust me, the reasons are many and complicated. I am glad to hear I'll get taller, though." Malcolm rushed back in carrying a tray of tea and crumpets, nearly tripping over a skull in his haste.

"Now you didn't take sugar, if I remember correctly."

"No, Mr. Borgin," said Albus, taking the proffered cup. "I never was very into sweets."

"Fits you well, my boy. There's nothing wrong with a bit of good old bread next to the cake."

"Others can take the bread. I'm only the mold on top of it." Mr. Borgin smiled again and patted Albus's arm in a grandfatherly way.

"Tommy, my boy, if you are the mold, than you are the mold in which great men will be cast."

"Empty inspiration that turns out to have been wrong from the start," Albus muttered, "that's me, all right. I did mold Rose, after all."

"Rose?" said Mr. Borgin. "Now who's this lucky little lass?"

"Evil," said Albus. "Pure, unrefined evil. She's the reason I'm here." The smile slid from Mr. Borgin's face.

"You're dead serious," he said. "You really believe a lass- and with such a pretty name, too- could be evil."

"She's killed people, Mr. Borgin, children really. None of them knew what they were getting into when they chose to follow me, not that she would've ever given them a chance." Mr. Borgin stood.

"What do you need me to do?"

"I'm not asking for your help. In fact, it would probably be better if you stayed out of this-"

"I might as well go down with the ship, Tommy. From what you've said and not said, I'm guessing that I'll be targeted anyways. Might as well do my bit and fight."

"Mr. Borgin," said Albus, "I don't think you know what you're getting into."

"I know what you used to stand for, Tommy." Mr. Borgin's voice turned hard. "I'm now saying what you've done was right, but you're still Tom. You can still win us this war, and I'll be behind you no matter what happens." Albus blinked tears of relief from his eyes. This- This was what he had needed: a person who would forgive him and stand by him even though they'd seen his worst. Mr. Borgin didn't have an agenda like the Death Eaters; he was simply there, supporting Albus however he needed it.

"Th- Thank you," Albus whispered. Mr. Borgin just nodded. Albus straightened and said, in a stronger voice, "Now, to business."

"Business," said Mr. Borgin gruffly. "I suppose you'll be wanting some of my artifacts and such."

"Anything to help in the war would be much appreciated," Albus admitted, "but what I really need is access to the Shrieking Shack again. I hope you still have the key."

"Of course I have the key," said Mr. Borgin. "Malcolm, fetch box 221." Malcolm ran off to the back of the store. "What are you wanting the Shack for, anyhow?"

"Headquarters," said Albus. "I need a place with access to Hogwarts and that can be connected to all means of magical and non-magical communication."

"Fits it well, then," grunted Mr. Borgin as Malcolm ran back in with a large brass key clutched in his hand. "Now, you mentioned Muggle communications?"

"Yes?"

"I have some contacts in the Muggle government. For the right price they'll give you Muggle weapons, military lines, whatever you want. I know they're useless in Hogwarts, but you can use them just about anywhere else and nobody'll notice. Wizards don't look for those types of things, you see."

"Perfect," said Albus. "Get whatever you can."

"It's dead useful for security, I tell you. I'll get you some security cameras and maybe some keypad locks."

"I trust your judgment. Just… try not to get Muggles too involved. I'd hate for Rose to kill them all just because she knew a few had helped me."

"True, true…" said Mr. Borgin. "But you need all the allies you can get."

"People have died, Mr. Borgin," said Albus.

"That's what people do. They reproduce then die. There's no stopping it."

"No, but these were children. Two of them were murdered just for associating with me. If I can stop that from happening again… I will, no matter the cost." Mr. Borgin stared at Albus.

"You've changed, Tom," he said.

"Yes," said Albus. "I have."

"Good men are hard to find at any time," Mr. Borgin grunted. "Keep it up."

"Here's the key, sir," said Malcolm, breaking what could have potentially been a very awkward silence.

"Thank you, Malcolm," said Albus, taking the key. "Until next time, Mr. Borgin."

"You can't leave just yet, my boy. You haven't even had a crumpet! Malcolm may not be much to look at, but he makes the best crumpets in Knockturn Alley." Malcolm blushed.

"They aren't nothing," he said.

"Damn right! They're something special, those crumpets. Always give them out when your little begger friends come over-"

"Wait," said Albus. "Malcolm, you have friends?"

"Course I have friends," said Malcolm defensively. Albus began to move toward the boy.

"Are they good? Loyal? Would you trust them with anything?"

"Well, why wouldn't I?"

"Are you certain?"

"Sure I am." Albus stooped down to Malcolm's level, so that he could look the Squib in the eye.

"Then you must tell them to run." A crease appeared between Malcolm's eyebrows. "Tell them to run as fast and hard as they can. Rose is after them, you, all the people of Knockturn Alley probably. Chances are good that she sees this," he gestured around the room, "all of this, as evil."

"But I'm brave. I can take her." Albus closed his eyes and swallowed.

"You're only a boy. I won't stop you from entering this. But think it through. You will be risking your life. In fact, I'll help you hide-"

"We aren't children, Mr. Riddle. We aren't cowards."

"You're innocent!" Albus burst out, grabbing Malcolm by the front of his shirt. "Don't you understand? This person we're up against… She will kill you. She's almost as bad as I was, before."

"You need friends, than. Besides, Mr. Borgin's helping you. I don't see why me and my friends can't." Tears were leaking out of Albus's eyes, and his grip on Malcolm's shirt had become like that of a drowning man clutching a piece of driftwood.

"You're right," he almost sobbed. "Of course you're right, and God, you're so beautiful. I need allies, I just…" He trailed off, his head hanging limply as he cried. Mr. Borgin knelt behind him, placing his hands on the young man's shoulders. Their steady presence only made Albus cry harder, his whole body trembling with the force of it all.

"There, there," said Mr. Borgin. "I understand. You need allies, but don't want them hurt. You love them; you've taken them under your protection. That's what hurts you now. Embrace it. We're lucky to have a commander such as you."

"No," said Albus, "no, you're not. I'm weak."

"Since when is caring a weakness?" said Mr. Borgin softly.

**_Um, yeah, that was… *sniff* I should not write while listening to MercyMe. Also, there are more Sherlock references in this, if anyone cares. Next chapter: Albus, Frank, and Lesley get into a fight, the Shrieking Shack is now headquarters, and there are Death Eaters._**


	20. Chapter 20: Calm Before the Storm

**_This is a chapter full of Sherlock references, not that anyone would care. I'm quite happy, though. Benny has a voice like a jaguar hiding inside a cello._**

By the time Frank apperated into the Shrieking Shack it had been effectively converted into a headquarters. Albus sat at a table, reading a newspaper and obviously only half-listening to Lesley, who was seated across him. When Frank appeared he looked up.

"How'd it go?" he said, throwing down the paper. A quill and parchment were quickly in front of him. Frank shook his head.

"Half of them are willing, but half of them… Rose got there before me." Albus nodded wearily, picking the newspaper back up.

"Same with the Ministry," said Albus. "This morning's _Prophet _doesn't seem to know how to react to Lesley's letter."

"What about you dad?"

"My father," said Albus, "thinks that I'm possessed last I heard." Frank blinked.

"Well, that's new," he said. Albus gave him a tight smile, obviously forced.

"True," he said.

"What about your mum?" said Lesley suddenly. Albus shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "Truth be told, I haven't seen her since Christmas."

"Wait, why?" said Frank.

"I don't know," Albus muttered, a bit disturbed. Then he looked back up at Frank. "James?" Frank shook his head.

"Your brother is impossible, if slightly helpful." Albus's left eyebrow shot upwards. "His position right now is basically 'we can't trust my brother because his soul is being eaten away by Voldemort.' Oh, and Slytherins are still evil."

"Wonderful," Albus groaned. "How exactly is that helpful?"

"It's one more person to vouch for you being Voldemort," said Frank, grinning.

"I wish you were less thrilled about that. After all, he did lock me up in a mental asylum."

"He got you closer to Voldemort."

"Yes, we should really be thanking him for that." Albus rolled his eyes. "Anyways-" He was interrupted by a loud crack. Goyle appeared in front of him and bowed.

"My Lord, the Slytherins have been warned, but for some we were too late." The coppery taste of blood filled Albus's mouth as he bit his cheek, trying to hold in the scream of frustration he wanted to let loose.

"Who?" he said as calmly as he could.

"We apprehended the Dark Lady in the house of Arnold and Harvard Dent. We were too late to save them, and she escaped us." That make five dead, Albus thought, feeling sick.

"And where are the rest?" he said.

"The ones not at Hogwarts were transported to Malfoy Manor, where every precaution has been made by Mr. Malfoy the younger to secure the house against the Dark Lady."

"Good," said Albus. "That's good. Pass the message onto Nott that I want an update." Goyle bowed again.

"It will be done, my Lord." With that, he disappeared. Albus slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. He refused to cry.

"We'll need a new envoy to the merepeople now, I suppose," he said at last, feeling oddly disconnected from the whole situation. A chair clattered to the floor.

"That's all you can say about it, eh?" said Lesley.

"What else is there to say?" Anything else would seem forced and hollow. Lesley let out a little gasp.

"Lives have been lost, Albus, actual human lives! Just so I know, do you care about that at all?" Albus opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling.

"Will caring about them help save them?"

"No."

"Then I'll be sure not to make that mistake." Lesley made a noise half-way between a laugh and a sob.

"Albus, it's not a matter of- of convenience or whatever the hell you're thinking; it's just decency."

"Decency," said Albus, smiling bitterly. "What happens when your _decency_ puts everything at risk? What happens when you care so much you're willing to forfeit the war in order to temporarily save a few lives? No, it may be all right for you, but it is my job to not be decent. I can simply not afford its price."

"Right," said Lesley, "Right, you do that." Albus lifted his head so he was looking at Lesley.

"I've disappointed you," he said.

"Frankly, you've disappointed both of us, mate," said Frank. Albus's stomach clenched.

"I'm evil. Why would my stance surprise you?"

"I guess we just thought you were better than that," said Frank. Lesley nodded in agreement, tears in her eyes. Albus sighed and looked back up at the ceiling.

"Don't make people into heroes, either of you. Heroes don't exist and, if they did, I wouldn't be one of them." Lesley stared at him a moment, then she left the room. Albus's eyes flicked to Frank. "Well?"

"What do you want me to say?" said Frank. "She's angry, and for a good reason, too."

"Aren't you going to leave me, too?"

"Where'd I go?" When Albus's only response was to bite his bottom lip nervously, Frank rolled his eyes. "You're really thick, aren't you? It's time to choose a side. I've made my choice."

"You've chosen stupidly."

"My other option's Rose. If the choice is between two Darknesses, I'll choose the partially reformed one."

"Frank, she will kill you. You can't do this. She doesn't know about you being reborn; she thinks you're just Frank. You could-"

"You're a bloody liar, you know that?" said Frank, laughing slightly. "Here I was, thinking you didn't have a heart, but you do care."

"I'm trying to save lives, Frank. Does that mean I _care_?"

"Look at you. Merlin, you're adorable when you're in denial." Frank leaned in and ruffled Albus's hair. Albus pulled away. "You at least care about those lives, Al. That's more than Rose can say."

"I don't care, Frank. I just- I prefer not to waste them, that's all, the way you'd prefer not to waste ink." Frank chuckled.

"You just keep telling yourself that," he said. "I'd better go after Lesley. We don't want her to do something stupid." Albus nodded, and Frank left the room. Sighing, Albus returned to the abandoned newspaper, only to jump up a moment later when a loud crack resounded around the room.

"What the f-" Albus cut himself off when he saw the figure in front of him. "Oh, Crisper. It's just you." The house elf made a low bow to Albus.

"Crisper is sorry for startling Master Potter. He was told by Master Goyle to give Master Potter an update."

"Right," said Albus, sitting back down. "What's the news?"

"Centaurs and house elves and goblins have been alerted of the Dark Lady's offensive, sir. Master Goyle is attempting to contact the merepeople and the werewolves and the giants. He is wondering if you have any other groups you wish to tell of the plight."

"No, no," said Albus. "The Muggle Prime Minister should be alerted, though, if only because Muggles might get caught in crossfire."

"Crisper will tell him, Master Potter," said the house elf, bowing again and then disapperating. Albus groaned and leaned back in his chair. Before long he was dozing, exhausted from his less than three hours of sleep that night.

Because he was dozing, he didn't notice the fire flaring from someone's entrance by Floo Powder. The man stood over him a few moments, wand in hand, but in the end Harry Potter disapperated back to Grimmald Place.

**_There we are. Next chapter: Harry and James and important revelations. Maybe a bit of internal angst. The usual fare. _**


	21. Chapter 21: Men on the Slab

**_Hey! This is being typed up at the local library right now, since the house is getting roofed. Take the dirtiest, wimpiest, most tattooed chain-smoker you can find, make three carbon copies, and you have the geniuses that are pounding on my roof. Yeah, I got out as quickly as I could. Anyways, here's your weekly dose of the brilliant (I hope) Voldemort trilogy._**

Harry Potter collapsed almost as soon as he had apperated into a little-used corner of his home, sinking to the ground. He curled into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut against the burning pain in his scar.

He was walking slowly down a hallway lined with the bloody remains of people, dressed only in now-destroyed hospital gowns. He opened a door... He saw her. Them. A red-haired, middle-aged woman was lying motionless in the centre of the room, broken, and over her stood a young girl. Rose. Rose looked up at him and smiled...

"No!" Harry shouted, wrenching himself out of the connection through sheer force of will. His harsh breaths were more like sobs. All these years... All these years and he still couldn't block it. Now it was his son...

"No." He was trembling now, shivering from the cold that weighed in his chest and radiated outwards. Just when he'd finally made the world safe, put away almost all of the Death Eaters, and been ready to concentrate on his family more than his job, this had to happen. The worst thing was that he didn't know where his life had begun to fall apart or how the hell he could even begin to try to put it back together.

The pounding in his head from the scar had finally begun to fade. Harry sat up, but he was forced to lean against the wall. Exhausted even from that tiny effort, he cradled his head in his hands. Bile was rising in his throat.

"What the hell is going on?" he muttered miserably. He knew that there was a better, more important question: Where had he gone so wrong? How had he missed the signs?

Ever since forever his job had been to keep everyone safe. At first his bubble of protection had only encompassed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Now it was huge. I covered Hogwarts, it covered his co-workers at the Ministry, but most of all it covered his family. If anyone anywhere was hurt, killed by a Dark wizard, he knew who was to blame. He was the protector, and when he failed... Well, he didn't fail.

He had failed now. Children were dead who should have lived long lives, Death Eaters were escaping, and the Ministry... he could almost laugh at the utter blindness and stupidity of the Ministry. They were worse now than they had ever been, even in his fifth year. They covered up deaths, covered up the later Azkaban escapes, just plain covered up the world. It got worse: he was the one covering stuff up. He helped them. He complied. It was his job to comply.

Compliance. That was the real problem. People were dying, his son was possessed by a monster who might be right, and all he would do was sit back and let it all go to hell. It was wrong. The system would always be wrong until kicked into action.

Everything screamed at Harry to get up and take action. The doors, the windows, the walls, the indistinct shapes in the darkness, all of it. Finally getting up, albeit unsteadily, he kneaded his forehead. Instincts to protect warred with instinct to obey the Ministry, the right. He wandered shakily into his study, took out a quill and parchment, and began to write.

After he's put down a few lines, there was a meek tap at the door. Harry's head snapped up, and he hastily shoved the half-finished letter into the desk.

"Who is it?" he said. The door creaked open.

"I know I'm supposed to be at Hogwarts…"

"Yes, you are, but tonight's been anything but what it was supposed to be." James took a step into the room.

"Frank told me that it's starting."

"The war?" Harry turned to face his son. James nodded.

"I came right here because… well, nothing makes sense anymore."

"I don't think I can answer any of your questions right now, James. I'm a bit busy, you see." Harry turned away, hoping that James would get the hint.

"Dad, this is serious. I need your advice." Harry sighed and turned yet again.

"What is it?" he grumbled.

"Why aren't the Slytherins evil this time?" James burst out. The question was simple and childish, but James was so desperate that Harry had none of his usual urge to laugh.

"James," said Harry, "it's never been a matter of Slytherin or not Slytherin."

"But everybody says-"

"Everybody is wrong!" Harry looked down, swallowing. "I'm just realizing that myself now." James walked over to his father's chair, sat on its arm, and self-consciously rested his head on Harry's shoulder.

"Dad, what're we going to do?" he said. Harry put an arm around James.

"I have no idea," Harry whispered.

"Slytherins are evil."

"Yeah, and Gryffindors are good. But look at this mess." Harry shifted so that they would both be more comfortable. "Everything that's good is black and cold, and everything that's evil… isn't."

"It's all wrong," James groaned. "This world's all wrong."

"I know," said Harry. A few tears leaked from his eyes despite his oft-employed practice of holding them all back. "Slytherins are evil or maybe it's just that their abilities make them more likely to be evil. But… the Sorting Hat tried to put me in Slytherin…"

"Bravery's good, sneakiness is bad. That's right, isn't it, Dad?"

"I don't know anymore. Dumbledore once told me that it's our choices that show who we truly are, not our abilities. I guess I've sort of forgotten about that since the war."

"But there isn't a wizard who ever went bad who wasn't in Slytherin," said James. "Everyone knows that."

"They're right," said Harry, but then he gasped. "No… No, they're wrong!"

"What?" said James, sitting up.

"Wormtail," Harry growled, "was a Gryffindor, and I heard that Professor Quirrel was a Ravenclaw."

"So that means…" muttered James, straining, trying to get through the layers of pride and prejudice that had defeated him before. "That means that Albus could be right!"

"And we could be wrong," said Harry grimly. "If this is reality… Merlin, how could we have fallen so far?"

"It was all prejudice," said James. "And anger and presumptions that have existed since Hogwarts was first set up." Both lapsed into silence, struck by the enormity of the revelation that had just been revealed to them. For the first time in many centuries, the leaders of Gryffindor were actually considering the possibility that they were the ones wrong, not the Slytherins.

Slytherins had, over time, become known as villainously cunning and egotistical, but you have to wonder if the latter trait does not belong more to the Gryffindors. After all, they are the stereotype of right and justice, and this has led to their self-righteous, entitled stance. In reality, Gryffindors in general could not be any better nor any worse than Slytherins, but still one House is always carrying the burden of their "evil," while Gryffindors are confident in their mandate from heaven.

"But he's Voldemort, Dad," said James, wanting to accept it, to prove to himself that his brother _was_ good, but Voldemort...

"Let's not deal with that right now," said Harry. James looked up at him, confused. "We have that Rose is wrong and the Slytherins are right, at least this time. Details like that... Well, what Voldemort did was hardly good, but this is bigger than him and us. This is about the Slytherins. Rose wants to kill them all, and that's wrong. Anything else can wait."

"But he's evil! Voldemort I mean, not all the Slytherins. I don't see how you can just-"

"That's just it. I can't excuse him, even if he's inhabiting Albus's body. In fact, if I could kill him without hurting Albus, right this moment, I would. But this... I'll ignore all that right now for the greater good." Harry turned back to his desk and the abandoned quill and ink atop it. He took the parchment he'd been writing on, looked at it for a moment, and suddenly crumpled it up and threw it violently into the wastebasket.

Harry took a clean piece of parchment from his desk and dipped his quill into the ink. For a moment it hovered above the parchment, unwilling to write the words that would ignite the Ministry and the Wizarding world itself.

_To the editor of the _Daily Prophet_,_

_For years now, we have let prejudice and bigotry reign in our government and in our hearts. The time has come for it's tyranny to end..._

_**The end! Wow, this is the first new chapter for a while that hasn't been slathered with **_**Sherlock ****_references. That must be a record for me, a whole chapter written without my mind inadvertently thinking of Benedict Cumberbatch. That should be a pretty good indication to you of how bat-crap insane I am. _**


	22. Chapter 22: The Taming of the Wolf

**_I don't really know what to put in this A/N, so I'll just go on to the chapter. BTW, Star Trek: Into Darkness comes out today in the U.S. If anyone here is a Trekkie or remotely curious to find out just who this Benedict Cumberbatch is, I'd suggest going. He's playing the Big Bad!_**

If you were to walk into the Shrieking Shack he afternoon and evening of the second day of the Hogwarts Easter break, you would have been met with the most peculiar sight. Two humans, both male, a goblin, a centaur, a house elf, and another human (actually a werewolf) were gathered around a table. The table was littered with scraps of parchment and broken quills, and it was nearly covered by a large map of the Wizarding United Kingdom. The werewolf was gesturing angrily at the map.

"We cannot comply with you!" he spat. "Full moon is coming. We are weak. We cannot risk life and limb because of your carelessness." The centaur, Mordreck, twitched his tail.

"What would you prefer, Jasper?" he said calmly. "There is no choice but to fight her. In fact, your kind is more at risk than mine."

"In what way?" said Jasper. "We have done nothing to this Dark Lady."

"Rose's mind doesn't work like that," said Frank. "She isn't like any Dark wizard before her. She is on a crusade against all she thinks of as evil."

"And thus she shall not forget the help your kind gave to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," said Mordreck,

"Is that an accusation?" said Jasper. "I was only a child when the last war ended! I never loved that scum; I was _bitten_ by one of theirs." Jasper unzipped his jacket to reveal claw and teeth scars marring his left side.

"And yet you insist on becoming those monsters every month!" squeaked the goblin, Glendon. "No wonder the wizards want you to take that potion."

"What would you know about our desires? Besides, you are just as stubborn as we are!"

"Oh, please. Gringotts has been out center since before humans even existed. Why should we give it up?"

"Exactly! You have your bank, we have our freedom. These _normal _wizards are one step below tyranny!"

"And that, Jasper, is why we have all elected to come here," said Albus. Everyone looked at him. "Look at you all. You're so different, yet one thing ties us together. We are all oppressed by the Ministry. Jasper, you probably wouldn't have any opposition to the Wolfsbane, but you want the freedom to choose it." Jasper nodded. "Glendon, goblins also want freedom- freedom to have Gringotts and wands. Both are simple requests."

"Aye," said Glendon.

"Mordreck, the centaurs just want enough land to live. Porky-"

"Yes, Master Potter?" said the chubby house elf.

"You and all your species just want to be able to have families. You want to be able to work for the same family for generations."

"Yes!" said Porky. "And Porky thinks you can get this for them."

"I'll try," said Albus. "I'll try for all of you. Frank and I want something very simple, too. We want Slytherins to be able to live free form prejudice and bigotry."

"Your goals are impossible," said Jasper sourly. "Humans can't change." Albus scowled.

"They can and do," he said. "Look at me. Am I not human?" Jasper flinched at Albus's cold voice and cowered like a dog that had just been kicked.

"I- I apologize," he said.

"Don't worry about it," said Albus. Jasper looked at him a bit disbelievingly. "If we got all offended every time someone mad a presumption, nothing would ever get done around here." He looked down at the map, ran a hand through his already messy hair, and sighed. "Our main problem right now isn't that we don't have an army, it's that we have no idea where Rose will strike next."

"So we're stuck?" said Frank. "We just have to wait for Rose to make the first move?"

"She's already done that," said Albus. "I wish we had spies. That would make things so much easier. I used to have spies all over the place when I was Dark Lord."

"Spies take time and cunning to plant, though," said Frank. "We don't have much of the former." Porky suddenly started hopping up and down like he had just downed three Americanos.

"Porky can help Master!" he nearly shouted.

"Quiet, house elf," snapped Jasper.

"But Porky can." The house elf's ears went down like a disappointed kitten. "Porky has a good idea to get some spies for Master Potter."

"Let's hear it," said Albus. Jasper opened his mouth to argue, but he was silenced with a glare from Mordreck. Porky looked around at the others eagerly.

"Porky and other house elves aren't noticed, Master Potter. They overhear lots. Porky could- Porky could use his skills to spy." Porky looked almost frightened by the thought.

"Don't listen to him," said Jasper. "Who knows who bought him. He may say he's on your side, but a house elf is only as good as its master."

"That may be true, Master Jasper," said Porky, "but Porky is an elf first, a house elf second. He is willing to risk losing his magic if he can keep his family together and his masters good." Jasper looked as though he was about to say something rather derogatory toward Porky and his species as a whole, but Albus held out a hand and ran his other one through his hair.

"If the other house elves are willing-"

"They will be, Master Potter!" squeaked Porky. Albus cracked a strained smile.

"Can you go spy unnoticed?"

"House elves are never noticed at all, Master Potter."

"This could work," said Albus softly, as though saying those words could destroy his fragile hope. "This could actually work. Porky, please go tell the house elves of Hogwarts our plan."

"Right away, Master Potter!" Porky disapperated with a crack like a gunshot. Frank smiled and shook his head.

"Crazy little blighter," he said fondly.

"He won't stay loyal," grumbled Jasper. "The freak's going to get us all killed."

"Though his speech is uncouth, Jasper makes a valid point," said Mordreck. "What will you do with the house elf if his masters side against us?"

"We'll cross that bridge once we come to it," said Albus. "Right this moment they are our spies, on our side, and I will not allow you to treat him as though he is otherwise. Understood?" There were a variety of assents from the table, ranging from Frank's "Hell, yeah!" to Jasper's muttered "Fin. Whatever." Albus nodded. "Good. Frank, have you worked out a plan yet?" Frank stepped forward to the table and tapped the map on it with his wand, making different colored squiggles move across the parchment.

"As you can see," said Frank, pointing his wand at some red squiggles inside Hogwarts, "Rose has a distinct advantage over us. She is the side people will want to listen to. I estimate that bout three quarters of the school's students will join her, along with many of the professors. Keep in mind that Slytherin is the smallest house, so I am giving others a bit of a chance with this figure."

"Yes, but where do we fight?" snarled Jasper.

"I'm getting to that!" snapped Frank. "Now, as I said, the position of the other Houses is something of an unknown variable. Until we know, we cannot effectively fight Rose. I have, however, come up with a plan that works on the assumption that no one from a House besides Slytherin joins us, except for me, of course." He waved his wand over the map, freezing the squiggles in place.

"This is a plan?' said Jasper, lookig at the squiggles quizzically. Frank sighed.

"Red means enemy," he said. "Each other color represents a different species we have on our side, a different type of force."

"Which ones are the werewolves?''

"The purple ones over there," said Frank, pointing to the far edge of the map. Jasper bristled.

"We can fight twice as hard as any centaur! Why are we on reserve?" Frank sighed, rubbing his eyes. Why had he not expected this?

"You are on reserve because we don't know when we will have to attack and don't want fully transformed werewolves out there." Jasper opened his maw angrily to argue again, but then he closed it, complacent.

"You make a point, General," he said softly, "but are we to be of no use to you? The werewolves voted to send me here so we could fight for our rights, not have others fight for us."

"We knew you'd hate this," said Albus, stepping forward, "but it had to be done. We had to ensure your safety and that of others somehow." Jasper bit his bottom lip and looked up from where he ferally crouched.

"What if we took the Wolfsbane?"

**_This is going to sound awful. Next chapter: Rose, Gryffindor, and borderline abuse. Reviews= Cumberbatch hugs!_**


	23. Chapter 23: Rose

_**This is a major **__**squick**__** warning. Blame it on too much Doctor Who and Diet Coke on a Friday night**_.

Covering her mouth to stifle her screams, Rose Weasley stumbled into a bathroom in her mum and dad's place. Locking the door with trembling fingers on the third try, Rose finally sunk to the ground, tears streaming from her eyes. Every muscle burned as though on fire, and it was all she could do not to completely break down and tell her parents everything.

This was exactly why she was right. When they saw that she had used the Killing Curse on those two brothers, they'd immediately open fired. She had been hit by the Cruciatus wasn't that she blamed them for retaliating, but her way was completely painless. She doubted whether those brothers had even seen her coming.

The Cruciatus Curse was unbearably could never do something like that to another human, not even the evil she had been sent to eradicate. In fact, she couldn't see why the Killing Curse was considered the worst of the unforgivable curses. It was quick, a burst of green light and it was over. There were much worse things.

The cold tile of the bathroom felt like heaven to her burning muscles. She rolled onto her stomach and lay spread-eagle, letting the pulsing of pain be soothed by the cold that seeped through her clothing and into her skin. Red-hot tears streamed down her cheeks, falling to the ground and hissing before they cooled almost to ice.

"G-Godric," she whimpered, trying to wipe the mucus from her nose without totally destroying her robes. She felt the familiar presence click into the back of her mind like a missing puzzle piece.

_What is it? _said Godric, his voice colder than the floor Rose clung to.

"I- It hurts," she said, wincing at the sound of her voice cracking. "Make it stop, _please._"

_Why should I?_

"It hurts so- so badly."

_You're just too weak to take the pain. _said Godric dismissively. Fresh tears of humiliation burned Rose's eyes. His rejection and doubt hurt worse than any curse. Her new tears, she knew, would just make Him doubt her even more, so she swallowed them.

"I'm not weak," she said, struggling to push herself into at least a sitting position.

_Prove it. _Rose's muscles protested against their brutal punishment, but she managed to sit up with the help of a wall.

"Godric-"

_Stop slouching. _His voice made the part of her mind that belonged to Godric smart as though it had been hit with a switch. Still, she managed to lose the support of the wall, though she nearly threw up with the effort.

"Godric..." Rose's voice trailed off as the pain was brutally beaten down by a wave of warmth until only a faint throbbing was left.

_Good Rose. _His voice slid over her, more delicious and beautiful than any angel's. This was why she loved Him so. He could be harsh, but every drop of His praise was her elixir of life. It was worth the curse, it was worth every curse, to hear the depths of affection that lay beneath His sometimes cold exterior.

He was more than a father to her. He was her bast friend, her protector, and her only support. He had given her a purpose in her life and was first there just when she had been feeling her most inadequate. He had chosen her to be the saviour of the Wizarding world, not her brother or cousins or anyone else in her family. He hadn't chosen Hugo, the Quiddich star, or James, the soon-to-be prefect. He hadn't even chosen Albus, who everyone loved best. No, Godric had chosen her, the nice and depressingly average one of the family, to be His own.

"Thank you," Rose whispered, trembling from the sudden relief from pain.

_See that you don't get hit again. _said Godric, back to business. _We still have too much work to do for you to be going around getting yourself cursed. Do not expect me to help you next time. _Rose bowed her head, suitably chastened.

"I understand," she said. "What is the next step?"

_We must make a grand statement. Isolated killings won't get us anywhere. We must kill many __Slytherins__ in one go, then order other loyal __Gryffindors__ to take up arms against evil. _

"Godric, I don't mean to argue, but what if the Gryffindors are repulsed by our actions? We don't want our crusade to be misinterpreted."

_Are you saying I am wrong? _There was a cutting edge to His voice that made Rose feel as though a knife was running around her hips, her torso, her chest, barely breaking the skin and leaving no evidence of it's intrusion.

"No! Of course not!" Rose prayed for His displeasure to cease, for Him to praise her again...

_The __Gryffindors__ will come. Their morality will allow them to do nothing but what is right._ Rose shivered in pleasure at the indirect compliment. She was right.

"And if they don't?"

_If they don't, _He growled like an angelic jaguar, _then they will not be counted as __Gryffindors__. _Rose opened her mouth, then she closed it, biting her bottom lip hard. It would do nothing to put her in His good graces if she picked a fight with Him. Besides, He was Godric. He surely knew bloody well better tan a first-year who didn't even know what the Cruciatus was until He took her under His wing.

"All right," she said instead. "What should we do?"

_You will do exactly what I tell you to..._

**_Eek! _****_Gryffindor_****_ is scary to write! Please review! Next chapter: I go all Victor Hugo on yo asses._**


	24. Chapter 24: Tip-Toeing Toward Revolution

**_Yes, I am going to blatantly copy characters from the masterpiece Les Miserables under different names. No, I'm not sorry about that._**

Dusk was beginning to fall when the first reports from Porky's spies began pouring in. Albus found himself having to constantly update their map while Frank looked on, frowning. These reports only slowed near one or two o'clock in the morning.

The situation looked... not good. Forces they knew were Rose's amassed and the unknown elements always leaned toward her side. After trying for almost three hours to find a plan that wouldn't get them all killed, Albus finally let himself slip into an exhausted sleep.

The next week was spent in preparation. In the future historians wouldn't record the little things that should have tipped off the world that a storm was coming. Because they were too blind to notice the signs, many were... blown away.

In two days there were two letters to the editor, one that accused a first year of Dark acts and another that condemned the Ministry for doing what was right. One was from a young Slytherin and never appeared in the paper. There other was from the great Harry Potter himself and eventually appeared in an extensively edited and bowdlerized form after it was already too late.

Every knew that the centaurs had risen. There seemed to be a new battle between them and the Ministry's top Spellcasters every few days. What people didn't notice was how other species of "near-human intelligence" were moving restlessly. There were other, more obvious signs. The goblins were systematically taking all the gold in their names out of Gringotts. All the werewolves were suddenly taking the Wolfsbane without complaint.

Nobody was overly alarmed when mysterious graffiti that had been in Knockturn Alley for who-knows-how-long began to spill over into it's more illustrious neighbor. They were annoyed, of course, that the sides of their stores were getting covered in spell-proff phrases such as "Kinell!" and "[insert prominent Ministry name here] wept!" Perhaps the most infuriating thing about these was that no one seemed to know what they meant.

It was strange that many Hogwarts students had unexpectedly decided to stop by Wibbles' Wand Specialty Store for polisher, wand sheaths, and other surprisingly practical things. Usually anyone who wasn't an Auror or over the age of 30 only went to Wibbles' to have "cool" carvings done to the non-business end of their wand.

A pamplet that called itself _The Messenger _began to appear on people's doorsteps in Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and Knockturn Alley. It's first issue had a modified quote above that name: "These children and species ask for just the same thing: fairness, and fairness only. This, so far as in my power, they, and all others, shall have." This generated much discussion and discord among magical citizens.

As the rest of the world slowly woke up from the long slumber of peace and hypocrisy, the radicals and revolutionaries that always hide beneath the surface of any unjust society began rising and organizing almost of their own accord. Many took names that, at fist glance, made no sense whatsoever. There was the CSI (Society for Children, Slytherins, and other Innocents, which was honestly a bit contrived) and the WEA (Wizard/Elf Allience). SPEW saw a new surge of popularity, and the long-dormant organization was so swamped with applicants that it was forced to tell them to go open their own SPEW chapters. Hermione Granger was pleased, if puzzled.

The largest of these was WFIH (Wizards for Interspecies Harmony), which was so huge that at one point it could claim it contained 50% of Wizard England. It was revolutionary even among this rebel subculture because of its extremely lax application and acceptance process. Basically, if you had any type of magic, you were in. There was even some talk from its leaders of allowing Muggles to join if they had previous knowledge of the Wizarding World.

At the heart of this organization were two minds, known as Alfred the Red and Gari the Black. No one knew their real names, and no one really cared to try and find out. They were almost god-like to members of the organization, more ideas than actual people.

Alfred the Red was the figurative heart of WFIH. He was the passionate being that had brought them together in the beginning. Filled with endless energy and empathy, he had convinced other species to join in their crusade against the tyrannical Ministry. He had the charisma of a politician, the commanding presence of an army captain, and the creative boldness of any number of revolutionists that had come before him. Overeager and perpetually high on ideals and ideas, he was what would soon become the stereotypical rebel.

Gari the Black was the one who kept Alfred and the WFIH grounded. He was older than the majority of the members; he had seen the battle of Hogwarts and fought well. Practical and analytical to the point of being cold, he was the brains of the WFIH. His purpose, plain and simple, was to bring the coups and plans into reality. He was the how to Alfred's why. If the WFIH was planning to sack a Ministry member's house, he'd be the one to figure their expenses, how many men they'd need, and how much time they'd have before Aurors came to the scene.

Gari was always questioning Alfred, almost challenging him. He did this (he said) to keep the Red on his toes. The real reason was much more convoluted than his simple explanation. Gari was almost mechanical in his perceptions. He was the perfect reasoning robot: genius, analytical, and cynical. He could never put himself into a cause; he always knew the risks far too well. Therein lay his fascination with Alfred. We are always attracted to those qualities we lack, and Alfred possessed such conviction and faith in his cause that it seduced Gari. But there was a problem. Gari knew there was little to no chance of them succeeding, but he also knew Alfred wouldn't listen to reason. So he questioned him. He second-guessed him. He tried his hardest to prove that unshakeable conviction was wrong.

It was Sunday, nearly a week after the beginning of the war, when WFIH approached Albus to offer their ranks. Alfred the Red pointed out that they were both aiming for the same goal: freedom for all, in spite of details like species and House. Gari noted that Albus was in dire need of troops to accomplish their mutual aims. Albus accepted at once, not bothering to mention that he was Voldemort.

Really, at that moment his identity didn't matter. This was more that a fight between him and Rose, between Dark and deeper Darkness. It was even more than a fight against the prejudice toward Slytherins. It was now the embodiment of every formerly lost cause, every revolutionary thought, every censored, inflammatory book, every person who had ever looked at their society and longed for change.

They were no longer Life Barfers, though it remained a good joke. They were something else now, something bigger than their cause, something bigger than themselves that they couldn't even describe.

_**Well, there you go. Next chapter will be normal, I promise. Next chapter: I suck at writing action scenes. Review if you want to.**_


	25. Chapter 25: Insurrection

**_Sorry I couldn't get this up last week. Finals suck! And I suck at action scenes, but oh well. Enjoy._**

Albus, Frank, and Lesley sat alone in the headquarters, now completely put in order. They should have been on the train to Hogwarts two hours ago. Albus looked over at Frank and Lesley.

"Well?" There didn't seem to be much more to say. The last week had been almost frightening in its swiftness. All their forces were laid out on the map, pulsing, multi-coloured dots surrounding those red, yet still hopelessly outnumbered. Now all there was to do was wait for Rose to make her move.

"I'm going to make some tea," said Frank. Albus nodded disinterestedly, looking back to the map. Then he closed his eyes, seeking to quell the panic that was rising within him. As sick as it was, he withed that Rose would just get on with it. All this waiting was making it impossible for him to think.

"I'm going to the train," he said suddenly. Frank and Lesley's heads snapped toward him.

"That's suicide!" said Lesley. Albus shrugged.

"I've died before," he said. "I'm going to get all the Slytherins out of there."

"Why don't you get one of the house elves to-" Frank began.

"I can't stand this waiting!" Albus shouted. "I can't just sit here, waiting for her to kill someone!" Frank opened his mouth to argue, but Lesley stopped him.

"No, let Albus go . He's taking it worse than we are. It'll give him something to do."

"It's still a stupid risk," Frank muttered.

"It was a stupid risk to have them go in the first place," said Albus. "They're all congregated in one place. How can that not go wrong?"

"Fine, go, you idiot," said Frank. "It's just the last for train cars, anyways, with the unofficial segregation and all."

"Exactly. I'll be fine." Frank reluctantly nodded, and Albus disapperated.

He reappeared in the first of the four cars occupied by the Slytherins only. Muttering a spell, he put his wand to the side of his neck.

"ATTENTION ALL SLYTHERINS," he boomed. Instantly heads poked out of compartments. "THERE IS NO NEED TO BE ALARMED. YOU WILL BE APPERATED TO HEADQUARTERS, AS IT HAS BEEN DEEMED TOO MUCH OF A RISK FOR YOU TO REMAIN AT HOGWARTS-"

"A fine decision," said a voice behind him. He whirled around and saw, hanging onto the railing at the end of the car behind him, the form a Rose Weasley, the wind making her hair fly around her like a flickering flame about to die out. He lowered his wand to point at her.

"Rose." She smiled.

"You certainly chose a time to turn up, Mr. Potter," said Rose. "This is becoming the norm, you showing up just a little too late to save your minions."

"I'm not too late this time," said Albus. Rose let out one harsh bark of laughter.

"No, you're just in time to die with them. Noble of you, I suppose." Albus was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

"Rose, what's-" She drew her wand, stilling him.

"I've tried to do this slowly, Albus, but it's not working. You don't know how I hoped you wouldn't be here. You may be evil, but you're still my cousin."

"Rose, you don't have to do this. You can still go back-"

"No, no I can't." She lowered he wand until it was pointing at the connector between the two carriages. "I'm sorry." With a sharp crack the connection was broken.

"Rose!" She didn't answer. A flick of her wand and a loud boom forced the end of the carriage into the air.

Albus fell toward the bottom end of the carriage, scrambling for a handhold. He grabbed the door handle of a compartment and hung on, though he was nearly jarred from it when the door swung open. In a manner almost like a chin-up he got his head about the door the see the Slytherins inside the compartment.

"Don't worry," he said, putting one arm over the door and pulling himself atop it. Standing precariously, he waved his wand and the train froze. Then it slowly began to creak downward. Albus looked up, and the train suddenly accelerated and crashed to the ground. Albus himself slid to the floor, almost falling over. In front of him was the reason he had lost control of the trains descent.

"Perhaps you're better than I gave you credit for, Potter," said Rose wearily.

"Perhaps," Albus said, closing the door he'd hung onto.

"Are you going to force this onto me? Do you _want _to die in a duel?" Rose's voice almost cracked with badly concealed desperation.

"A duel?" said Albus, and he laughed. "If we dueled, I know who would win."

"You know nothing," said Rose. "I've been taking lessons from the greatest duelist of all time."

"I'm not taking lessons; I'm good enough to be giving them," said Albus. "I had to be." Rose scowled.

"Your generation is dead and gone. You're all that's left, and a sad, washed-up Dark Lord you are."

"I know," said Albus. "And you know who I am. You know what I've done. Kill me and let these innocents live."

"Innocents? Don't make me laugh. An innocent Slytherin is just a Slytherin who hasn't been caught yet." Suddenly Rose gulped. She looked, for a second, as though she was about to cry. "Why did you have to do this, Al? Why did you have to be evil? We could have been brilliant together."

"Rose, it wasn't my choice to be Dark Lord or in this House. You don't have to kill us." It was strange, two enemies asking each other the exact same question: Why did you become this? Where did we go so wrong? Can I fix you? Their answers were likewise the same: No. No, because evil is total and absolute. No, because of complete delusion. Maybe, if either could have answered "maybe," the war could have ended right then and there.

The two faced each other, mirror images of darkness and hurt and heartache, mirror images who would forever fight yet wish there was some other way to play out their hellish drama. Rose raised her wand again, and Albus raised his. It was a salute of sorts, a salute to who she once was- his cousin, his friend, an over-polite bookworm that he loved with all his heart as a second sister.

"So this is it," he said. She nodded. He surged past her, gesturing out the front of the car. "Reparo!" The two parts drew together like giant magnets, but he wasn't watching his handiwork. He had turned to look at Rose, who stood as though petrified.

"You... You..." she stammered.

"Yes," said Albus, grabbing her wrist. "Me." With that they both disappeared.

**_So, there's that. I realize that Rose might be a bit OOC. Feel free to complain in that lovely little box right below. I would love some reviews._**


	26. Chapter 26: Beauty of the Night

**_A day or two late, but I guess you guys don't mind. At least it isn't as late as last week's. I just got a very pleasant surprise. I was dorking around on the almighty Google when I found out that Benedict Cumberbatch _****_and _****_Ewan McGregor are going to be in the _****_same movie_****_. It's called _****August: Orange County****_, and it is based on an award-winning play of the same name. Seriously, it's two of my favourite actors in the same movie. The only way to make it any better: Tribbles._**

They reappeared near the edge of a craggy, deserted cliff. Wind whipped around them, through their robes, giving them both a wild and insane appearance. Rose disengaged herself from Albus and stumbled backwards away from the prepice.

"You do have a knack for choosing dramatic spots for final confrontations," she said, almost admiringly.

"Drop the bravado, Rose," said Albus.

"What bravado?" she said, pointing her wand at him, hand shaking. "I'm going to kill you… right now… and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"I won't try to stop you," said Albus. "After all, you're right. I am a monster." He threw his arms out to his sides as though to offer them to a cross. "I- I don't deserve this second chance I got." Something was rising in his gut, some almost unknown feeling that ate away at the lining of his stomach and burned at his heart.

"You've given up," said Rose slowly. "The great Albus Potter, Dark Lord, has given up." She laughed, a hallow, mirthless laugh that would have inspired pity under different circumstances. "And here I was thinking you were the key to it all."

"There is no key, Rose. This… revolution would have happened without me. I mean nothing."

"You're an emblem. That's enough. Give yourself some credit, cousin. Without someone like you, they're lost. With you, well, they'll rally round the bonny flag or the mulberry bush until the end of time." The edges of Albus's lips quirked up in spite of him.

"You still remember that?"

"Of course," said Rose, "though I'm surprised you do. I would have thought that evil would have pushed out stuff like that, stupid stuff-"

"Childhood," said Albus. Rose nodded. "You know, we could sit here chatting all day like two friends."

"We were friends, Albus," said Rose, "but you changed."

"True, but you can't say that you've exactly stayed the same as ever."

"I've always been this way. You're just seeing past my weakness now."

"Weakness?" Roses's facial muscles tightened.

"Yes. Don't be surprised. I only had to find the strength through Godric to do what had to be done." Albus took a step backwards, toward the edge of the cliff.

"Do you even remember life before Godric?" She raised her eyebrows. "He seems to be all you ever talk about."

"He's brilliant," said Rose. "I remember life before Him, of course. Bleak and desolate as this place."

"Is that really all there is to it? We were _happy _then, Rose. How long has it been since you've laughed, really laughed?"

"A long time, but there are more important things than happiness."

"What could be more important than your happiness?"

"The happiness of others," said Rose. "I may have to sacrifice my own, but it'll be worth it if I can ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart." Albus took a deep, shaky breath and another step backwards.

"You have such noble goals," he said. "Even if you use evil means, at least your ends are meant to be good. Fits the political nut who always wanted to play the Auror." Rose's face turned into surprised delight.

"You remember that game?"

" 'Death Eaters and Aurors'? Of course; how could I forget? You always made me be the Death Eater." Rose smiled sadly.

"Sort of ironic, looking back at that now," she sighed.

"Yeah. Did you know Godric then?"

"When we were like seven? No way!" Albus nodded.

"That's what I thought." Albus tried to take another step backwards, but his hopeless dramatics had made him run out of cliff. One foot slipped of the edge, and he fell backwards toward the stormy sea below. Suddenly he felt a thin hand wrap around his wrist and pull him from the prepice.

"Albus, you complete moron!" Rose shouted. Albus looked at the hand still gripping him then up at her, stupefied. She unclasped his wrist and put that hand in her pocket self-consciously.

"You saved me," said Albus.

"Don't get any ideas, scum. I simply want a chance to kill you myself, that's all." She winced. "That's all, I swear!"

"Rose?" said Albus, but Rose had fallen to her knees, shaking from pain and gesturing frantically for him to leave.

"No! No, Godric, make it stop! I hate him; I hate what he's done. Please, please just make it stop!" She was on the ground now, spasming as though being shocked over and over. Albus fell to his knees.

"Slytherin, help her!" he screamed. "Slytherin? _Slytherin!_"

_I cannot help her. Godric will not allow it. _

"You should be able to do _something_. You're _Slytherin_, for Merlin's sake!" Pure rage filled Albus as he felt his cousin twitch in his arms, rage against Gryffindor, Slytherin, Dumbledore, himself. Everyone who had created this mess and caused this to happen to a poor, deluded child.

_Tom, let her go. She has done nothing to deserve your compassion._

"She saved my fucking life!" Albus shouted.

_And look where that has gotten her. Your worst enemy is dying. She's saving you from the trouble of killing her._

"You know, Godric was right about you. You really are heartless," said Albus coldly. Coldness was the only way to escape his rising hysteria. "A child is dying, and all you can say is _let her die? _All you can say is that she's _saving me the trouble? _Well, maybe that's true. But no matter how evil and deluded she is, she doesn't deserve to die. No one does."

_You are Lord Voldemort. Surely you can't be so naive. We have to spill her blood to keep innocent blood from being spilt._

"No, I'm not that naive. I just want the moment where I have to kill to be held off as long as possible."

_She had killed many._

"She's killed five. Yeah, it's wrong, but I won't kill her. I won't stoop down to her level." Albus turned his attention to Rose, who was still writhing in obvious pain.

_You will not kill her. You will simply let her die._

"There's nothing simple about it. If I let her die, I'll kill her just as much as if I had used Avada Kedavera." Albus looked down at Rose. "Please, Slytherin, help her. I'll do anything."

_I... I cannot access her mind._

"What?" Albus wanted to cry and scream and rage against the unknown gods that seemed determined to make him fail.

_I am sorry. Godric is blocking me, and I cannot break his hold. _Albus closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing.

"Fine," he whispered, then louder. "Fine! Rose, can you hear me?" Rose opened her eyes through the pain that still raked her.

"Don't... worry," she said through pain-clenched teeth. "I... deserve... this."

"No," said Albus. "Nobody could deserve this."

"Failed... my Godric," she whispered. "Gotta... be... punished."

"Godric," Albsu realised, "Godric's the reason you're doing all this."

"Always... knew what... was right. Godric... taught me... to... fight the bad." Albus looked down at her, tears in his eyes.

"All Slytherins aren't bad, you know," he said.

"I know," said Rose. "I'm... just... realising that now." She gave a small gasp and went limp in Albus's arms. He frantically shoved his ear to her chest, straining for a heartbeat.

Suddenly a searing pain tore through Albus's mind. Someone was tearing at him, tearing his mind apart. In one giant movement the being shattered through his subconscious shielding. He fell to the ground and knew no more.

**_Done! Review, please! Next chapter: Chessmaster, in which we see a lot more of Godric Gryffindor._**


	27. Chapter 27: Chessmaster

_**Just a warning, this chapter is... odd. Very odd. I was sick while writing this, so that might have something to do with it.**_

Albus woke. His head was groggy and his eyesight blurred. He was lying on the cold stone floor of a darkened room.

_Hello, Tom Marvolo Riddle. _The voice was silky and smooth, charismatic and charming. In other words, dangerous.

"Who are you?" Albus got unsteadily to his feet.

"Look behind you, Potter," said Rose. Albus turned and saw his cousin in the dim half-light. Her eyes were sunken and her whole body shaking with exhaustion.

"Rose, what did he do to you?" She tried for a wicked smile, but it came out weak.

"He showed me how wrong I was. He punished me, then he forgave me."

"Did he hurt you badly?"

_Spare the rod, spoil the child. _The voice was just as deliciously pleasant. Rose seemed to bask in it, even though it wasn't addressing her.

"I'm going to guess you're Gryffindor," said Albus.

_Just Godric, please. There's no need to be formal._

"Right, um, Godric. Why did you bring me here?"

_You're a smart one, child. You catch on quickly. _Torches flared to life around the room, but it wasn't a room at all.

"Why are we at St. Mungo's?" said Albus as he took in the waiting room.

"This is the first step, Potter," said Rose. "It's for good, I promise." She sounded... apologetic, almost, like she knew that he wouldn't approve of whatever she'd done. That could not be good.

"Rose, what have you done?"

"I've begun to really rid the world of evil. You would be glad, if you were really my cousin."

"Rose-"

"Follow me, Potter." Albus followed Rose numbly into the lift. He had a sneaking suspicion of what he would find on the upper floors. Mentally he tried to prepare himself. The lift dinged when it reached the fourth floor, and its doors opened.

For a moment Albus was winded and stunned. Even though he'd known what he would be seeing, he hadn't been prepared. Bodies littered the hallway. They had been carelessly bushed aside to create a narrow pathway, their hospital gowns rendering them half-naked and vulnerable looking. Some were still half-way in their rooms, having been killed while politely answering their doors.

"Don't worry. They're all Slytherins. I checked."

"And that makes all this right?" Rose didn't answer, just gestured for Albus to follow her down the hallway. Albus tried his best not to look at the faces of those Rose had killed, but he couldn't help it. They fascinated him even as they made his blood run cold.

There was a nurse, a rather pretty one too. He recognized her. Pansy Parkinson. She had been in young Draco Malfoy's year, on the fast track to being another Bellatrix. I seemed that she had been able to turn her life around before Rose had murdered her.

"Come along," trilled Rose form up ahead. Albus tore his gaze from the body and trotted to keep up, looking staunchly forward. He didn't want to see anyone else he knew of, even if that meant the possibility of treading on cold, spongy body parts.

"Where are you taking me?" he said when he'd caught up. Rose smiled.

"You'll see," she said teasingly. "Now close your eyes."

"No."

"I won't kill you, Potter, if that's what you're worried about. That would be too simple." Albus glared at her.

"You've killed all these innocent people. Why should I trust you?" Rose drew her wand.

"Maybe because I'm the one holding the want at your head?" she said sweetly. Albus muttered about that not being a very good reason but did as he was told. It wasn't as though he had much of a choice.

Rose pressed a hand against his back, guiding him forward. He almost tripped over a threshold. Albus heard a door close and lock behind him and tensed. Last time he had been in a locked room with Rose Weasley he had only survived because of the timely arrival of his father. He hoped that such a thing wouldn't happen again.

"All right, open them up," said Rose excitedly. Albus opened his eyes and stumbled backwards into the door. He couldn't look away from the grisly scene.

"Rose..." He trailed off. He wasn't even surprised anymore. "They were _babies_, Rose," he eventually said.

"Future Slytherins," she corrected. He ripped his eyes from a newborn and glared into her merciless eyes.

"Unsorted as of yet," he said tiredly. "Really, Rose, what happened when I was out? Before Gryffindor did... whatever it was he did, you seemed almost yourself."

"What you saw was a mistake on my part. Godric has shown me my error and it won't happen again, I promise."

"For once, I wish you wouldn't keep your promises," said Albus. "Rose, I don't know why you're showing me your- your _work_, but I can tell you that this is bad. I won't let you get away with- with this." He gestured around the nursery.

"You think this is bad?" simpered Rose, and her face darkened. "You think this is bad, Riddle. Well, you should have seen what you did before! You killed hundreds of innocent Muggles and wizards!"

"Just because I did that is no reason for you to do the same-"

"Don't lecture me, Voldemort!" Rose shrieked. Albus flinched at his old alias. "I am ensuring nothing like what you did will ever happen again!"

"You're doing it right now! And what will you do when the Sorting Hat puts eleven-year-old kids into Slytherin? Are you going to kill them, too?"

"What do you think?" Albus shook his head.

"I think you're crazy," he said.

"You call this crazy?" said Rose. "I haven't even shown you the best part." Albus felt his stomach clench. What could possibly be worse than this? Rose seemed to sense his unasked question and smiled. She gestured for him to follow her. He did, dreading what he would be led to.

They came to another door. Rose unlocked it, still grinning devilishly, and led Albus in. What little he had eaten that day threatened to dislodge itself from his stomach. Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for this.

There was a person lying on the floor. Not a corpse, an actual living, breathing human being. The person was bloody and battered and bruised and heart-achingly familiar.

"Mum!" For a moment the world stopped. Albus couldn't think, could barely breath. Then he remembered the means of contact Rose couldn't take away: his Dark Mark. He muttered "Severus" and prayed it would work, because if it didn't his mummy was dead.

At exactly 9:42 pm both Frank Longbottom's Dark Mark and Harry Potter's scar burned. Both answered the call of Lord Voldemort.


	28. Chapter 28: Remorse

**_Well, here we are. Second to last chapter and the climactic scene. Enjoy (is it even right to say that under these circumstances?)._**

It was only now that Lord Voldemort knew the true danger of feeling, and it was all over Ginerva Potter, a blood traitor. Guilt and panic ate away at the lining of his stomach, the marrow of his bones. If it wasn't for the fact that he had to stay there, be there to fight Rose... well, he would have died.

Everything, all of this, was his fault, and at that moment it seemed to only be his. If he had noticed that he hadn't seen his mum all of Easter break, he could have prevented her torture. If he had caught Rose earlier, hadn't been so weak, she might have never been taken. If he hadn't been himself, Dark Lord, Rose may never have become this way.

"Why?" His voice sounded tinny and distant, as though he had a bad phone connection.

"She was in the way," said Rose. "I tried to convince her to help me by giving me the password to the Ministry archives, she refused. I told her the cause I serve, she tried to curse me."

"She isn't even a Slytherin!"

"She sided against me, just like Frank. She will be counted among the wicked."

"I won't allow it," said Albus.

"And neither will I." Frank appeared beside Albus, his robes billowing about dramatically.

"You came," said Albus, his great relief evident in his voice.

"Of course, said his friend cheekily, and for a moment a glimpse of Frank-before-Snape could be seen. Then Frank turned toward Rose, his face set, his wand pointed steadily at her. Rose's eyebrows shot up.

"Well, well, well. It seems that Slytherins always band together, doesn't it, Severus? And here I was thinking your were an abnormality."

"You're forgetting, Rose, that I was sorted into Gryffindor last September."

"Its mistake," said Rose, waving a hand airily. "We can all see very clearly where you stand."

"Step away from Mrs. Potter, Miss Weasley," said Frank in the low, dangerous voice of Severus Snape. "We can squabble about my loyalties at a later date."

"She's betrayed Godric same as you have. She deserves everything coming at her."

"Rose, she is your aunt!" Albus blurted out. Frank's hand, the one not holding the wand, found Albus's shoulder and gripped it, warning him to calm down. Albus took a deep, steadying breath, trying to ignore the pain of his damned feeling, trying to forget that he was anything but a Dark Lord because Dark Lords do not cry over their mums.

Rose's wand, surprisingly, lowered from the immediate threat of Frank Longbottom. Unfortunately that meant that it was pointing directly at the prone figure of Ginny Potter. Albus's breath caught in his throat, and he had to resist the urge to close his eyes, curl in a ball, and cry from the pain of it all. Dark Lords were not this vulnerable. Voldemort was not this vulnerable, but somewhere far away and long ago a boy named Tom Riddle had been.

"Don't," Albus begged, knowing what was coming, what had to come. Rose smiled.

"Crucio." His mum's screams filled his ears. He had to keep his stoic facade on, but his mask was crumbling. Tom Riddle was sobbing in that godforsaken orphanage, than it was the others sobbing because of Riddle. Because of him, Voldemort. They hurt him and he hurt everyone and Rose hurt his mum and nothing ever changed. The pain never stopped hurting, even when the origin was dead and gone, and all of it was his fault. This blood was on his hands.

The reflection he saw staring at him was hideous and mutilated and angry and wrong. His soul was so shredded that nothing could possible knit together the gaping wounds. Blood dripped from him, blood from all his killing and failure and the death of that boy who had been so like at Hogwarts, who had chances but never took them and had turned into a literal monster in a quest to free everyone from pain he only created more of.

"Rose, I'm warning you," said Frank as Albus fought to stay in the moment.

"You wouldn't dare, not when I have my wand pointed at the traitor." Frank's jaw tightened.

"Just watch me dare," he whispered. Rose's eyes widened and she stopped the curse. Frank looked a bit surprised at his own success.

"Rose, step away from my mum," said Albus.

"No," said Rose. Albus drew his wand. It shook from the pain that still consumed him. "You think that you're intimidating me?" There was suddenly a loud crack and all the torches dimmed. Albus heard Rose give a soft gasp.

"I didn't do that," said Albus. "Honest-" The torches behind Rose flared and she turned. A striking silhouette was outlined in the flames. I bent down beside Albus's mum, taking her pulse, then drew up to its full height.

"Drop the wand." When Rose heard the voice she visibly relaxed.

"You do know how to make an entrance," she said, "but you can't fool me, uncle." She waved her wand lazily, causing the room to be lit brightly again and every detail of Harry Potter to be made visible.

"I never thought I'd see this from you, Rose," he whispered. Rose let out a little, breathless laugh.

"Of course you didn't, Uncle Harry. I'm the good one, after all. The nice one, the one everyone takes for granted because I'm just there. I'm nothing compared to the others; I'm not special enough for this family. But now... now I'll show you. I'll show all of you how I can be more than good, nice Rose Weasley. I'll show you how I can be great, too!"

"What if you don't need to be anything more, Rose?" said Albus. Rose spared him a glance over her shoulder.

"You really think talking will help at his point? You are dead, Voldemort. You and Severus and all your Slytherin friends are going to die."

"I don't think so," said Frank as he shot a spell at her back. She blocked it easily.

"Drop the wand. Rose," said Albus's father.

"You're betraying me too?" Rose was enraged. "You were supposed to be my biggest supporter! What's wrong with you, uncle?"

"You are not my niece. Now drop the wand and step away from my wife and son." For a moment Rose's eyes were wide with shock. Then they narrowed, sparkling dangerously. Her wand rose and whipped in circles above her head. "Alicanaman achum achum achum alicanaman!" she shrieked.

Wind rushed around the room, blowing out the torches and enveloping everything in an unnatural darkness. It suffocated Albus, stealing his breath away. He could no longer find Frank or his father.

"Avada Kedavera!" The darkness was broken for a moment by a flash like green lightning. His mum arched her back and collapsed. Rose's gleeful expression, though visible only for a moment, would stay with him the rest of his life.

In the darkness he began to shatter. He fell to his knees. "Mum!" he shouted. Across the years he heard the other children who had shouted that word in that tone, who he had caused this pain. More and more join the hoard of wrongs he had up to this point been ignoring. He was guilty of so much and that guilt tortured him. It was worse than that darkness in the afterlife. This was the darkness of his own soul.

"Sectumsempra!" Another light, a red one, illuminated the gloom. He saw his father's back arch, overlapped by so many others. Blood spewed across his vision. A sharp crack sounded and suddenly the darkness was gone. So was Rose.

Albus dragged himself to his feet. Rank had been flung against a wall and was unconscious. His mum was dead, killed by the Killing Curse. His father...

Albus staggered over to where his father lay and collapsed beside him. The curse had cut deep gashes into Harry Potter's body. His intestines and blood were spilled on the harsh white-tile floor. Hand shaking, Albus applied pressure, not knowing what else to do. How could he fix this... this horror he had caused?

"Dad... Dad, hold on," he sobbed. "I'll get you out of this, I promise I will-" He was stilled when a blood-stained had reached up to caress his cheek.

"Al..." Blood bubbled from his father's lips, destroying whatever words the great Harry Potter had left for his son, his greatest enemy.

"It's all right, Dad." Albus caught the hand as it was about to fall, cradling it against his cheek, tears running between the calloused fingers. "I'll make sure the family's safe, I promise." Albus's father smiled and breathed his last.

**_Well, shucks. That was painful to write. Review, please._**


	29. Chapter 29: Funerals

**_Well, here it is. Last chapter. Thanks for all the support in writing this. Book 3 should be up in a couple of weeks, August at the latest. Bye!_**

Remorse. The one constant in Albus Potter's life since the night his parents had been killed. He functioned mechanically now, trying to comer the continuous pangs with work and routine, but it never worked, and he knew why.

This was a funeral for one of the most respected and loved figures in the wizarding world and his wife. The caskets were slowly lowered into the earth; the speeches were long, droning, and made by men who had no idea what Harry and Ginerva Potter had been. Albus was suffering, in eternal pain, and cared far more than he was ever going to be willing to admit.

As his uncle Rose stepped forward to carve the epithet into the headstone, Albus knew what he had to do. It was the only thing possible to make sure his father's family stayed safe, just like he had promised. He tapped James on the shoulder, and his brother looked up from comforting Lily.

"Take Lily and go to Uncle Bell and Aunt Fleur's place."

"No, Al." James' face was set and determined. Albus's story of the events that had led up to their parent's deaths had been enough to wipe all remaining doubts from the elder boy's mind. Albus stared at the tombstone.

"The last thing I ever told Dad was that I'd make sure you and Lily were safe. I promised that to him, and it's a promise I don't intend to break." Albus felt James' hand lightly squeeze his shoulder.

"Fine," James said. "But the moment you need me, call me. I don't want you to have to do this alone." Albus nodded. He knew that he would never call for James. Albus felt rather than saw his siblings go away from him. Slowly the rest of the funeral party left, until he was the only one there. He walked up to the gravestone and patted it gingerly.

"I think you would have liked it here, Dad," he said. "It's a nice place, right next to Grandmum and Granddad's g- graves." Albus's voice broke and he hung his head. "I'm sorry." The words came out in a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Harry." It was Tom Riddle who stood at the grave now. "I shouldn't have killed your parents. Hell, I shouldn't have killed at all. And now this is what has come of the _great _Harry Potter: dead, because of me. Maybe when I go back to where you are you'll be able to forgive me." Tears fell on the polished marble. "Please forgive me."

Slowly, peace stole over Albus. Wounds that had been torn open by remorse decreased and healed it fissure-like scars on his soul. For that moment he felt almost complete. He looked up at the stone, smiling a little.

"Thanks, Dad," he said, stroking the stone. Then he straightened. "You know, I think you would have liked what Uncle Ron carved on your grave. 'Shine like the stars forever.' It suits you." Somewhere far away the soul of Harry Potter gave a grin.

"It certainly does."

**_As I said, Book 3 will be up by August. Please feed the hungry monster who loves her reviews._**


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